Remembering Myself
by MidnightRazorHeart
Summary: When trying to forget her past in alcohol and random men, Christina meets Jeff. Shocked that someone wants to die, Jeff spares her and leaves in confusion. Angry that he allowed someone to live, Jeff invades her life and finds other ways to cause her pain. Throughout his time hiding out at her house, Jeff begins to learn about who Christina is and what she has been through.
1. Chapter 1-Chandelier

**The POV will switch between Jeff and Christina in third person. I will not say when the change occurs and simply write the story in third person omniscient. I hope it is still easy to follow. Please let me know if there is confusion or a misunderstanding and I will go and correct any mistakes.**

 **Special Shout Out to Dustin. Without her beta reading, this would have never been published. Consider her the Co-Author of this story.**

 **.o.o.o.**

The girl danced to the booming music with her eyes closed. Her leather sleeved arms were up in the air, as if being pulled by an invisible string that was sending guiding tremors down the rest of her twisting and swaying body. Her leather mini-jacket covered the most sensual parts of her, but left her stomach and much of her cleavage open for all eyes to see. She worse tight black shorts that reached down to her knees. The girl danced alone on the floor, in the middle of a group of other sweaty dancing bodies. Her thoughts were drowned out by the heavy bass and techno-like voice coming from the speakers around the room.

This wasn't her first night here, dancing as her body became almost numb from the alcohol she had consumed. This was how Christina spent most of her Friday and Saturday nights, drunk, and dancing alone to forget her life. From the moment the club opened at seven at night until two in the morning when it closed, she could always be found indulging in socially acceptable self-destructive behavior. Drinking dangerous amounts of alcohol, dancing until you're dizzy, and hooking up with random men who want to use you was socially acceptable emotional and physical self destructive behavior that no one ever questioned.

A large body pressed up against Christina's back, their hands grabbed her waist and pulled her into them. Christina didn't question the person, instead she leaned back and began to grind herself into the bulge she felt poking against her clothed ass.

"I've seen you here every Saturday night for weeks now. You're always alone. I thought you could use some company," a gruff male's voice spoke into her ear.

Christina smirked as she danced against the man holding her, enjoying the physical contact. "How sweet of you," she replied with a smooth glide against him.

A hand snaked around her waist and lowered to her inner thigh. The calloused hand gave a tight squeeze, to which Christina resisted wincing out from the stinging pain that shot through from his touch. He was simply groping her, not even that roughly, she couldn't risk showing discomfort. The young woman began to grind herself again her company in rhythm to the song. Her thoughts were absent as she danced with the man, simply enjoying the physical contact and trying to not wince out in pain or tense up when his hands gripped certain areas of her body.

Much to her comfort, the pain began to guide her through the dancing sweaty bodies. Still without turning around to see the man, Christina followed his guidance to the edge of the dance floor. Soon the two were on the edge and squeezed out of the many bodies. Christina turned to look at her companion but before she was given a chance, his hand took hold of her wrist and she was being led down a dark hall, further into the club. Christina followed without question as she took in is appearance from behind. He was large and muscular, as if he had built his body up for football when he was younger. The man wore dark blue jeans and a black shirt, his semi-long hair in a low pony-tail at his shoulders.

The two went into a dark room, and instantly Christina was pushed up against the shut door, a mouth trailing down her neck. She breathed in deeply as she closed her eyes and allowed her head to lean back against the wall. She let her arms wrap around the larger man who was now biting her neck. The man's hands began to travel down her body, finally coming to a place between her legs. Christina's breath hitched as the man snuck his hand into her tight shorts and cupped around her underwear. She gasped out, her eyes widening from the contact, then instantly froze.

"S-s-st-st-st-op," she stuttered out, her eyes widening in fear, as the man's fingers moved the thin clothing out of his way and began to rub against a small bundle of sensitive nerves.

"Hhhhmmm," was her only reply as the man began to bite down harder on her neck and suck.

Christina began to shake slightly, whether from the sensations going through her from the man's touch or from what her eyes were seeing, she wasn't sure.

"St-stop!"

The man in front of her pulled his head away and looked at her scared face, his fingers momentarily pausing in their movement."What's the problem," he grumbled.

However, Christina was not looking at him; her eyes were trained to something else behind her partner.

"I've always loved these large clubs. So many people, everyone drunk, and music so loud you can't hear anyone scream. It's the perfect place."

The man pulled her hand out from Christina's shorts and whipped himself around, coming face to face with another male.

"Go to sleep!"

Christina froze in shock as her companion was stabbed, the sound of flesh squishing as he was stabbed again and again echoing in the dark room. Finally, there was silence. The young woman stared at the man she hadn't taken her eyes off of since noticing him. He was slightly taller than her, with long dark brown hair that swept forward unevenly. He wore what appeared to be black jeans and a white hoodie, now stained with the warm vibrant red liquid that had spewed from her companion.

With a soft _'thud',_ the large body fell to the ground at her feet. The sound momentarily snapped her out of her stupor before a cold hand gripped her neck and pushed her into the door.

"You're quite beautiful for a whore, a bit modest for one too," he cackled in a hoarse voice.

Christina stared at the man holding her, his white hood was pulled over his head, covering much of his face along with the thick brown locks. Her heart beat fast against her chest as if it was going to break out, yet her body remained calm.

 _'He…he just killed him,'_ she thought to herself, _'This guy… he doesn't even care…'_

"Since you're beautiful, I'll give you an option in how I kill you. Would you like a smile to enhance your looks, or for me to cut your head off," he began to laugh.

Christina stood there, her heart continuing to pound as her body and mind remained calm.

 _'This is my chance.'_

"However you want," Christina whispered, her eyes becoming glazed over as she thought of her impending death.

"Oh? Not going to beg for your life, are you?"

Christina's heart began to move at a slow-paced jog, the muscles in her body becoming less tense. In a matter of a few short seconds, Christina was no longer trying to hold herself up; instead gravity was pulling the weight of her body down as she relaxed. The only thing holding Christina upright, was the tight grip of the cold hand around her neck.

"Please kill me," she whispered out, a grateful warmth in her voice.

The killer tensed, his chuckling now silent. He was quiet as he stared at her through the gaps of his hair. Confusion, anger, and curiosity bubbled in his stomach and spread to his mind like wildfire.

"You want to die," he questioned in a hoarse whisper, his fingers tightening around her neck. Most of his victims would be begging for their lives, or at the very least struggling in his hold. Yet this woman seemed to be completely calm, even somewhat relieved. The murderer stared into her glassy eyes, not a sliver of the familiar fear he relished in was apparent in her eyes. Instead, he saw a different emotion that made him uncomfortable, something he hadn't seen someone look at him with in some time.

Hope.

"Yes," the relaxed woman croaked out, the tight grip around her neck making it difficult to speak.

The butcher stayed in his position for a moment, contemplating the look he saw in her eyes, his thoughts, and his own natural urges. Something was different. He had killed angsty teens before who seemed to have a death wish, but even they had struggled at some point or shown fear to him. This woman however, wasn't struggling at all, fear absent from her eyes. It unnerved him.

Christina groaned in pain by the impact of her shoulder slamming into the hard ground.

"You're not worth my time," the male growled and then exited the room.

Christina laid there on the ground clutching her bruising arm. She was going to be killed. She was supposed to be killed. The man was going to save her the pain, struggle, and effort to kill herself. He was going to make up for all the times that she had been a coward and failed. But here she was, lying on the ground, air going in and out of her functioning lungs.

A cry of despair escaped her chapped lips.

 _'No! No! This was my chance! He was supposed to kill me! He killed the other guy! What makes me so special! He-'_

Then it registered. A man had just been stabbed to death and was laying a few feet away from her. Christina shot up and backed away from the body which was soaking in a pool of blood. The long-awaiting fear and adrenaline began to pump through her blood, causing her to run out of the room and get help from the bar tender.

 **.o.o.o.**

 **First chapter. What do you all think? The song for this chapter is Chandelier by Sia for multiple reasons that I will leave for you to guess. If you keep reading though, you will understand why this song fits perfectly. I personally prefer the live acoustic cover of Chandelier by the youtube account unexpectedsunday. Look that version up at some point, you won't be disappointed.**


	2. Chapter 2-Snow White Queen

One week had passed since Christina was almost killed. Seven, agonizing, frustrating, upsetting days. Her mind was constantly telling her all the reasons why she wasn't even worth being killed by a murderer, all the reasons why she wanted to be killed, and all the reasons why she was pathetic for not doing it herself already.

Christina shot up in her bed, sweat pouring down her body as she breathed heavily. Her head shot to the clock on her bedside table.

 _'Four am. It was only a nightmare,'_ she told herself as she tried to calm her breathing. Slowly, she pushed the covers away from her and took shaky steps to the bathroom that was across from her bedroom. The bathroom wallpaper was peeling, revealing a dirty rotting wood. The floor was old plastic tile slabs that were broken around the toilet and the bath tub. The whole room reeked of mold, yet none could be seen.

Christina turned the hot water on and looked into the mirror as she waiting for the water to actually be semi-warm. Her chocolate brown eyes drooped into large dark folding bags. Her skin was mildly wrinkled with stress, lack of sleep, and lack of proper nutrition. Her stringy blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun atop her head, multiple strands of hair hanging down limply. Christina looked awful, and she knew it too.

Unfortunately, the young woman was all too used to waking up from nightmares. This wasn't the first time she had been forced out of a restless sleep by traumatic nightmares of past experiences, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

The water was comforting against her sweaty face as she began to splash her lowered head with it. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she stood up and walked out of the dimly lit room, ignoring the sound of a small metal tool clattering on the floor as she bumped into the counter.

Christina made her way down a short hall, coming to a large open area where the kitchen and the living-room were separated simply by different flooring. The door to the outer hall on the apartment building was on the edge of the kitchen. Groggily making her way into the kitchen –a room in as deteriorating state as the bathroom-, Christina began to make herself a sandwich.

Not having a table or chairs, Christina slowly made her way into the living room to sit in the only chair in the house, her favorite lounge chair. She was a few feet away from the chair in the dark room when she stopped, her eyes finally looking at something other than the floor and her sandwich.

"Quite the shithole you live in," a sarcastic voice chuckled.

Christina stared at the white-hooded figure sitting in her chair, her mouth still open from the intended bite of her food.

The man laughed, "What? Are you that envious of my beauty?"

Christina snapped her mouth shut, forgetting about her sandwich altogether. The man sitting in her chair was the same man from a week ago, although despite his hood, she was able to see some of his face. The first thing she noticed was large white eyes peering at her through thick, matted, brown locks of hair. The eyes were strained right on her in focus, and never blinked. The next thing Christina noticed was the man's smile, the ways it stretched up much farther than the average smile should. Then his skin. His skin seemed to be so pale white that she could distinctively see it in the dark room.

"Oh come on, I didn't come here just for you to gape at me. Say something," he said. Despite his chuckling however, Christina could hear the annoyance and threat in his words.

"H-hi," she croaked out.

The man laughed, his head leaning back on the recliner.

"Hi? Well hello to you too! How are you doing hun," he chuckled.

Christina stared at the man's face, his hood falling back when he brought his head forward. Her eyes widened at the sight of the clearly abnormally large smile in his seemingly bleached-white face. She could tell where his lips ended and where torn smile lines appeared to be cut into his cheeks. The once separated cheeks were together though at the corners of his mouth the lines seemed to crack open and scab over.

"I asked you a question," the man said, this time in a much darker tone that sent shivers up Christina's spine.

F-fine!" Christina instinctively replied.

"You're lying to me," the man whispered in a deadly monotone.

Christina's mind seemed to be on autopilot as she responded to this man, "I'm confused."

"Why?"

"Because," she began, a slight shake in her voice, "you're here."

The man sitting in front of her chuckled, "I decided to stop by."

"I... I thought I wasn't worth killing," she whispered, multiple thoughts and emotions surging through her. She was scared of this man; that much was clear to her. She was scared of his mutilated face and how he had been in her apartment for who knows how long. She was upset; sad because of the despairing thoughts of being worthless occupying much of her mind. And confused; baffled as to why he was here if he wasn't going to kill her.

"You're not, but that doesn't mean that I can't use you for other things," the man said, his grin widening.

Christina took a step back, tremors going through her tense body.

 _'No. Please just kill me. Please don't do anything else to me. Please. Just kill me,'_ she begged inside her head.

The man laughed at her anxious reaction, amused by the fear she showed. He had a momentary thought of killing her, now that she was finally scared of him, but decided against it. He was having far too much fun with her and planned of playing some more of this game.

"I need a place to stay, so I thought that you would be more than happy to accommodate me," he laughed, "After all, you're not scared of me-" anxiety surged through Christina by his whispered question, "are you?"

He was challenging her, Christina could tell. The man was trying to show her that he was in control, and she was too listen and agree without any problem, or face the consequences. Too much of her life had given Christina the clues to notice the behaviors from a mile away.

"N-no," she whispered out, hoping that it was satisfactory.

"Good," the man laughed in his chair, "What's your name sweetheart."

"Chr-Christina."

The man's grin grew by her quick response, his eyes lighting up as well. "Hhmmm, I'll call you Chrissy."

Christina nodded her head. She continued to stare at the man, her emotions and thoughts a hurricane inside her.

"I'm hungry Chrissy," the man commented.

"W-w-would you l-like a s-sandwich?"

"Yes, that would be nice," he replied with a satisfied smile.

Christina nodded and made her way back into the kitchen. She could feel his eyes on her as she got out the lunch meats, mayonnaise, and bread and began making the sandwich for him on the counter. Her back was to him, for which she was grateful as her wide eyes stared unblinking at her work.

 _'If he's not going to kill me, then what is he going to do? Mooch off me? Bring bodies here? Simply use my place as his secret hideaway? Or… is he going to use me… Is he going to torture me or hold me hostage… Is he going to-'_ Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt hot breath against her exposed neck.

"My name's Jeff by the way," he whispered. Shivers went up Christina's spine. He was so close. He was too close.

Jeff watched as Christina whipped herself around, a sandwich in her hand.

"H-here!"

Jeff took the sandwich from her grasp slowly, staring into her eyes the whole time. _'She's not afraid of me killing her,'_ Jeff thought to himself, _'But she's still scared of me.'_

The realization amused him as he began to think of ways that she could entertain him. Jeff took a bite of the sandwich as he turned away from her and headed back to the recliner. Flopping down in the chair, he stared at her thin form. She wore baggy grey sweat pants and a t-shirt that hung loosely off her shoulders. She was gripping the counter behind her, a barely eaten sandwich resting off to the side. She was thin, as though she ate far less than the average person. The young woman's head was slightly bowed, her shoulders forward and her legs squeezed together.

"Why don't you come over here, sit," Jeff grinned as he gestured to the ratty couch that resided near his chair.

The woman nodded, her forgotten sandwich on the counter as she strode over and sat down on the couch, keeping her head down to avoid eye contact.

"Look at me."

Christina's head shot up and her eyes locked with the killer's own. Jeff laughed, seeing the fear in her small orbs. She was clearly submissive, something that Jeff could work with.

"Do you have a cell phone," he inquired, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

"No," she mumbled.

"A landline?"

She nodded.

"Why don't you bring that here Chrissy," he smiled at her.

Christina bolted up and scurried down the hallway to her room, her mind racing. _'I should call the police. No matter what he's going to hurt me some way, and if he doesn't hurt me, he'll hurt others.'_ She bent down to the floor and gripped the white hand held phone, the cord bouncing as she brought it up to her ear. _'Why couldn't he just kill me? If I call the police, then he can't hurt anyone else. I won't be responsible for the death of others. If I call the police, he can't use me for his own twisted desires. I have to be quick,'_ she thought as she began to push the numbers for 9-1-1.

"What's taking so long Chrissy," a shout echoed throughout her apartment.

 _'Shit!'_

Before the second ring finished, Christina pulled the connection cord out of the wall. She picked all the parts up into her arms and hurried back to the living room.

Jeff sat in the same chair, his sandwich gone and his right foot resting on his left knee.

"I was getting worried Chrissy, thought something might have happened to you," he chuckled with a light bite in his tone.

Christina stood still, clutching the telephone to her chest as she stared at the man. He was toying with her. He had to of known that she had tried to call the police. Panic surged through her.

"Can I see it Chrissy," he questioned.

Hesitantly, Christina walked over to him and held it out, her arms shaking ever so slightly.

Jeff kept his mouth closed as he smirked at her, satisfied by her obedience. He took the phone out of her hands, which fell quickly to her side afterwards. He began to examine the phone, rotating it in his hand and pushing on some of the number buttons.

"Quite an old phone, looks like it was made in the 90's."

Christina nodded slowly as she watched him show mock interest in the communication device. In one simply motion, he pulled the curly handset cord out of the base and held the handset with his two hands. As easy as if the phone was a stick, he broke the thick plastic in half, wires bouncing out. Then, using his dirty finger nail, Jeff picked the buttons out of the base, each one falling to the floor.

"There," he said, handing the broken parts back to her, "that's much better."

Christina took the defiled phone into her hands, despair setting into her. Slowly, she walked into the kitchen and dropped the telephone into the plastic garbage can.

"You got any family Chrissy?"

Christina's head snapped up from the broken pieces to the killer that sat in her living room. _'Is… is he threatening me?'_

"N-no," Christina responded honestly. She didn't have any family, no family that she knew the location of anyways. The only family she ever cared for were dead and her father… well she didn't know what she would do if she ever found her father's whereabouts.

"Hhmmm," Jeff squinted his eyes at her small frame then sighed, "Well, you're not going to find some way to get those pesky police officers here, are you."

It wasn't a question, it was a command. She was not to get help, or else he would do something to her. Whatever it was, Christina didn't feel inclined to allow the imagination of a serial killer to contemplate punishments for her.

"No."

Jeff smiled, enjoying every minute of entertainment his toy brought him.

"It's been a long night," he said in a smooth tone, smirking as shivers went up the woman's spine, "I'd like to get some sleep. Mind if I crash?"

Christina stared at him as he gestured to the couch, "N-no. Go ahead."

The killer continued to grin as he stood up, walked over to the couch and laid down on his side facing the back of the couch. Christina stared in astonishment, her mind trying to comprehend everything that had happened. A murderer that she met the other night broke into her home, still hadn't killed her, manipulated her into making him food, destroyed her only communication device, threatened her against getting help, and curled up on her couch. She could hardly believe all that was happening.

"I'm not fond of being stared at as I sleep," a low voice mumbled from the couch, causing Christina to jump in surprise as she realized she was staring.

"S-sorry," the woman squeaked out before walking down the hall to her own room. She shut the door lightly and slowly locked it.

 _'What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? What am I doing!?'_

Christina curled up in her bed, pulling the covers tight around her. Her eyes stayed wide open as she laid though, staring at the door.

 **.o.o.o.**

 **Second chapter. I had some writers block writing the first meeting between them. I actually had written two other scenes that simply were not flowing correctly and ended up deleting them before finally settling with this. The song Snow White Queen by Evanescence is a haunting song about her experience with a stalker. The song goes back and forth between the stalker's perspective of idolizing her, craving her, manipulating her actions through her fear, and claiming her to her perspective of being scared, traumatized, and her helplessness. Thought it fit for this chapter. Heh…**


	3. Chapter 3-Human Race

**Trigger warning.**

 **.o.o.o.**

Christina awoke with a start, sweating up a storm as her dreams came to her waking mind and haunted her. She dreamt of her father, again, and of her years growing up. Quickly, she got up and went into the bathroom to wash her face before the memories took her over. She avoided the mirror as she dried her face off, not wanting to see the person that would look back at her. Quietly, she made her way into the kitchen and began to make herself some toast. She needed to look for another job today, recently being fired from her job at MkDonaldz for dropping a milkshake when the manager was there. She was not looking forward to trying to get hired for another lousy job.

Christina turned around to sit in her favorite chair when she froze.

"Hi there," a familiar unwelcomed man said, sitting in her chair.

Jeff cackled loudly as he saw the woman drop her toast to the ground, her mouth slightly agape.

"Thought I was going to crash and then leave, did you?" Jeff snickered at her. Christina quickly picked up her toast and threw it out, swallowing sharply.

"W-would you l-like something t-to eat," she asked quietly, not looking at him.

"That would be nice," Jeff replied.

Christina nodded and headed over to the fridge. She didn't have any cereal or eggs so she pulled out the bread again and prepared toast for him.

"What would you like on it," she asked softly.

"Butter is fine."

She nodded and got the butter out and a knife to spread it. She placed two slices of bread into the toaster and waited, her fingers drumming lightly on the counter. Jeff watched her patiently as she lathered the toasted bread in butter. She appeared tense but was calm. Giving a pleasant fake smile as she walked over to him, Christina handed the sitting man a small plastic plate with two pieces of toast on it. Jeff took the plate and began to eat as Christina sat on the couch, her hands in her lap and her head slightly down.

"You got a job," Jeff questioned with a mouthful.

"No," Christina replied quietly, "I just got fire."

"Bummer," Jeff smiled at her.

Christina kept her gaze on the floor and her hands folded, as if waiting to fulfill another request from the intruder in her home. She didn't want to anger him but also didn't want to leave his presence in fear of him coming up behind her.

"Do you get fired a lot?"

Christina slowly nodded, heat rising to her cheeks. Jeff almost choked on his bite as he laughed at her reaction.

"That would explain this dump you call home."

Christina's fist clenched in her lap, her face red with shame. Jeff glanced over at the woman's stiffening form as he chuckled. She was shaking slightly as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes filled with a hatred that had sparks just waiting to set a fire. The look intrigued Jeff, interest swimming inside him for the woman who sat just a few feet away.

"If I allow you to look for a job, will you try and get help like a coward," Jeff hissed at her, wanting to see more of that spark in her angry eyes.

Christina's head shot up and glared daggers at the murderer who simply laughed, throwing his head back. _'Like a coward? Allow me to look for a job? This is my home! As shitty as it is, this is my fucken home! How dare he!'_ Christina thought, but didn't say a word. She knew better than to try and argue back with someone like him.

"You better get ready then. I have a few errands to run myself," he said standing up, "I'll be back later though."

Christina watched him pull his hood up and walk out the door into the apartment building hallway. A liquid made of frustration, fear, and resentment leaked from her dark eyes and rolled down her red cheeks. The fucken man knew that she wouldn't try to get help in fear of all the possibilities he could think of to punish her and he was relishing in it. He was toying with her and intentionally getting her upset, just to laugh at her like she was some comical show.

Christina jumped up and stomped into the bathroom, more tears running down her cheeks. She was terrified of the man, hated him for toying with her. All she had done was shown she was okay with dying and he had spared her, only to invade her home, toy with her, and take advantage of her home as a hide out; all of this simply because she didn't mind dying. Resentment towards herself fueled her emotions as she stared at her reflection. She was a coward like he said and proved it when she had tried to call for help but too scared to finish the call when he grew suspicious.

 **-Trigger-Skip Here-**

Christina gripped a small piece of metal in her hand and brought it down onto her now bare thigh. She dragged it across slowly and breathed in deeply, allowing herself to feel every pull and sting of her skin and the flesh beneath. She did it again and pressed down harder this time, going as deep as she normally did.

She was pathetic for not even going to the neighbors for help after he left, but what would they do? The police would come, question her, and leave. The would think that she had hallucinated on some drug and simply tell her that they would check in on her but never come back. Where she lived, it wouldn't be unreasonable, even though she didn't do drugs.

No, Christina didn't do drugs, but that didn't mean she wasn't addicted to something. She traced over lines of scabs on her thighs with the little razor, reopening the old lacerations she had made a few days ago. Her thighs were littered with wounds from different blades she had used over the years. Lines of pale fading scars and dark protruding scars could be found. Overlapping the scars were recent lines in her discolored skin, some dark brown from healing for an extended time, others light red from recently dried blood from being made a few days ago, and some a deep crimson shade that flowed down her thighs.

Christina exhaled slowly and set the blade onto the sink counter where she always kept it. She grabbed a dark wash-cloth, got it wet, and began to dab at the bleeding wounds. A sharp inhale of breath echoed in the small bathroom as the cold water sunk into the incisions. Christina continued to dab at them, soaking up the blood that had begun clumping on her skin. She squeezed the wash-cloth out in the sink, and then rewet it, the dark pinkish-red water rushing down the drain.

 **-Trigger-To Here-**

Once she was done, Christina leaned against the back of the toilet. Her thighs throbbed from being harmed and then cleaned. The cuts began to form lumpy drying blood layers on top and the skin around each line was a bright pink. She looked down at her thighs, her eyes half-lidded and a gentle frown on her lips.

Gradually, the drained woman stood up and went into her bedroom to change.

 **.o.o.o.**

Christina walked down the busy streets of the city, polluted air swimming into her lungs, and a headache forming from the symphony of noise. She squeezed through people and crossed busy streets as she avoided all she could. Every time she came too close to touching someone, the young woman would flinch. Her shoulders were up and hard with tension as she walked, periodically glancing over her shoulder. No one gave her a second glance as she continued to her destination of the Dollar store that was down the street.

As a light mist began to drizzle down, Christina began to walk faster to the store. She wore simple blue jeans and a thin long sleeved purple shirt, both would stick to her uncomfortably if they were to get wet. She had to of been fifteen feet away from the front doors when it seemed as though God was pouring buckets of water down onto the city. Christina ran through the rain and rushed through the front doors and stood on the door mat, panting heavily. Her once neatly brushed hair was now in wet tangles around her face and her thin purple shirt was sticking to her bra and chest, clearly defining where one met the other.

Slowly, the soaked woman walked to a cashier who was not busy.

"Hi, are you guys looking for employees?"

The woman who appeared to be in her early thirties turned to Christina and scrunched her nose, "we might. I'm not sure."

Christina bit her lip nervously; she felt small and insignificant next to the cashier. It was like she was simply an annoying beetle to this woman.

"Well… could I please have an application?"

Christina felt even worse by the woman's reaction. Her face clearly read _'an application? Why would we hire someone like you?'_ as she looked Christina up and down, judging her. After a moment of staring, the cashier reached under the register where there was a shelf and pulled out an application and handed it to her.

"Thank you," Christina mumbled, "Could I please have a pen or pencil?"

"You could buy one," the cashier sneered.

Before Christina could say anything though, an elderly lady came to the register and placed her basket of items on the counter to be checked out. Quietly, Christina waited patiently for the woman to be done doing her job, clearly being ignored. Finally, the old lady smile gently, took her receipt, and left.

"You're still here? I gave you an application," the cashier snapped.

"I need something to fill it out with," Christina mumbled.

With a huff the woman grabbed a pen and tossed it to Christina, whom picked it up off the floor.

"Thank you," she mumbled and walked away. She went over to a register that was not being used and began to fill out the application on the empty counter. Once done, she handed it back to the woman, who huffed, and left the store into the rain.

 _'I could get a job there, right?'_ Christina questioned herself as she walked through the crowds of people carrying umbrellas and rushing to the destinations, _'That woman was just having a bad day. I'm not anything less than she is. There is nothing that she can do that I can't… is there? I… I'm just as good… right?'_

Christina was pulled from her questioning thoughts when something caught her eye. Glancing to the store shop window next to her, the soaking woman stopped and stared. Inside was the first floor to a large building of different stores and offices. The window she was looking through belonged to a rather decorative jewelry store. An assortment of bracelets and necklaces were on display on the inside table, likely their best items to draw people inside. Christina viewed only one item though; a golden necklace with blue jewels sat on a pedestal above all the other items. The blue stones caught the light perfectly and glinted with beauty. The thick golden chain seemed to sparkled as the light hit it perfectly.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Christina stood there, large drops of tears from the sky falling around her. She stood in silence, the sound of busy city streets echoing in her mind as she gazed at the valuable accessory.

 **.o.o.o.**

 **AU about the Story**

 **So first, the spelling of MkDonaldz is internally spelled that way. I'm not sure of the whole copyright thing concerning the fast-food franchise and quite frankly I don't feel like looking it up or risking getting flagged or reported.**

 **Second, if this was too triggering or too intense, please let me know. I did give two trigger warnings but if you would have rather skipped over that part, let me know. I can put in a warning to skip right before the scene and then have a place marked after the scene for some to continue reading.**

 **Third, Human Race by Three Days Grace. I think this song represents a couple different creepypastas honestly. I would love a music video of this song with images of Ticci Toby, Masky, Eyeless Jack, and The Bloody Painter. That would be awesome. This song has association to Christina because of her internal feelings, her social discomfort, and is foreshadowing of some future events.**

 **AU about me!**

 **So it has been one month since I last updated. I'd say that's pretty good! I've been completely shocked by the amount of love for this story and it isn't even five chapters in yet. That makes me so fricken happy, you have no idea. It's like… each time someone comments I get a cookie, each time someone follows/favorites, I get a cookies. It's awesome. COMMENTS make me really happy ^_^ .**

 **I've been really busy and going through a lot lately. Trying to stay on top of things and meet all my responsibilities. When I have time to write, it has really helped to distract me from my life and all my expectations. School is kicking my ass. I'm being torn in so many directions. Work is so time consuming. People are assholes. Yeah… But I'm getting by. And the show much go on! Or… story… yeah!**


	4. Chapter 4-Rain

"Get hired at any place good?"

The sarcastic raspy voice disturbed Christina's empty mind as she walked into her apartment drenching wet. Her thin clothing clung to her body, defining every curve, bump, indentation, and underclothing. Her stringy hair hung around her face and stuck to her cheeks.

"No," she spoke to the air as she faltered through the darkness. The only light that appeared to be on in the small home was a tall table lamp without a shade that stood on the floor next to her couch.

"Heh, that's unfortunate."

Christina ignored the comments and stares from Jeff as she slowly walked down the hall to her bedroom. She shut the door and began to disrobe, her clothing struggling to cooperate as it gripped her clammy body. The room was slightly brighter than the rest of the apartment due to being the only room with a window. Light from the setting sun peaked into her room, illuminating the lack of furniture.

"I'm hungry Chrissy!"

Christina left her soaking clothing in a heap on the floor and went to her dresser. She picked out a pair of baggy, stained sweat pants and a very unflattering large shirt with sleeves that went five inches past her bony fingers. She picked up the pile of wet clothes and took them into the bathroom to dry over the shower rod before going into the kitchen and to begin looking in the cupboards and fridge for ideas.

Jeff sat in the chair he had begun to claim his own, his feet propped up on an overturned bucket he found. He watched with a grin as the tired woman moved about the kitchen, grabbing various items from the relatively empty cupboards and fridge. He had scoped out the whole place before she had arrived home, and found that the apartment was just as unpleasant as the outside of the building appeared. A small part of Jeff's mind wondered why the place had not been shut down for violating so many health and safety codes, but he mostly didn't care. Having a crappy roof over his head was better than having no roof at all.

"Whach ya makin there," he inquired with mock interest.

"Spaghetti."

"Oh yum. I haven't had that in years," Jeff commented. Despite his jeer, it was true; he hadn't had spaghetti in years.

Christina nodded silently as she slowly stirred the sauce in the pot. She added a couple shakes of some spices to the canned sauce, hoping to make it more pleasing to taste.

"So, what do you do for fun around here?"

Christina didn't want to reply. It was bad enough that a mass murderer was living in her home with her, but that he actually expected her to converse with him made her insides crawl.

"Read," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, didn't catch that. Could you repeat that sweet-cheeks?"

Jeff chuckled quietly to himself as the woman tensed up, her shoulders raising and becoming hard. He made a mental note to call her that more often.

"Read," Jeff heard her say again, albeit louder this time.

"Ah, what a fun past time. I never found much amusement in reading, just wasn't my fix."

 _'No,'_ Christina thought, ' _you found your fix in killing people and running from the police.'_

"Anything else you do to entertain yourself in this shit hole?"

Christina didn't say anything as she got two plates out and began to scoop noodles onto them.

"Oooooh, silent treatment, huh," Jeff jeered at the woman as she walked over with two plates. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. Jeff's grin widened as she bent slightly at the waist and leaned forward to hand him his plate of food. Jeff took the fork off the plate and began to dig in, Christina still holding the plate. One bite…two bites…three bites…four. Christina standing silently the whole time, a plate of spaghetti balanced on each hand.

"You used can sauce, didn't you," Jeff commented with his mouth full, "Last time I had spaghetti, the sauce was home-made."

Christina didn't say anything as her body trembled in anger. This guy was continuing to toy with her. He was doing the simplest things to push her buttons, all intentionally. Her pride was wounded, what little she had left. Christina wanted to cry, but refused to break down in front of this despicable excuse for a person. It wasn't anything new though, being treated less than dirt by someone else. Christina was quite accustomed to hiding her pain from those who hurt her, but this was her home. Despite the condition of it, Christina felt comfortable in her home. Her tiny apartment was the only place she was able to let out all the emotions that squirmed inside her, and now… even that had been taken from her.

Christina dropped the plates of food just as Jeff was reaching for his tenth bite of food. A silence echoed in the room as Christina held her breath. Jeff's labored breathing was slow and focused as he stared down at the mess on the floor and his legs. His lips formed a frown despite the corners of his mouth forcing themselves to point upwards.

"I'm sorry!"

Jeff watched as Christina ran from the room after her quick squeak. He rolled his eyes and got up from his comfortable spot and walked into the kitchen. He picked up the garbage and brought it into the living room to scoop the noodles into the trash. He dusted the sauce and noodles off his pants and cleaned up the sauce with a spoon. The scent of tomatoes filled the room but there wasn't much he could do about that. A splotchy red stain complemented the carpet with all the other dark colored stains. After washing his hands in the kitchen sink, Jeff made his way down the hall. He walked into her closed bedroom to see an empty bed. Turning around, he saw light peeking out from the closed bathroom door.

 _Knock, knock._

"Christina," Jeff drawled, "I know you're in there."

He received a strained silence in reply.

"Oh Christina," He continued in a sing-song tone, "I'm not mad at you for dropping the food. You seem to make a mess out of everything anyways." He chuckled at his own comment. The silence continued but he could hear the woman's heavy breathing from the other side of the door.

"You can't stay in there forever sweet-cheeks. What am I supposed to eat now?"

Despite his comment, Jeff was not hungry. He had gone days without eating and the little amount he had eaten was a more filling meal than he had eaten in some time. He listened quietly at the door and heard a variety of soft sounds. The first one he heard was sniffling. The next sound Jeff identified was sharp intakes of breath of someone in pain. The sound spiked his curiosity. And finally, the last sound Jeff identified was sound of a tiny clinkering, as if a small piece of metal was dropped on the tile floor.

Jeff backed away from the door, his lips forming a frown and his eyebrows pulled together. He stared at the door as if he could see through it at the woman inside and observe her every movement. In silence, he went back to the living room and lied down on the couch.

 **.o.o.o.**

When Jeff woke up, Christina was nowhere to be found as she had already left. This wasn't anything new though, the woman had a habit of leaving the place before he woke up and coming back late at night. He yawned as he washed his face in the bathroom sink. Staying under the radar had given him a chance to sleep full nights, which was unusual for his regular sleeping pattern of sleeping a few hours whenever he got the chance. The cold water slid down Jeff's face and dripped off his chin into the sink, his eyes stinging. Jeff had been finding it harder to keep his eyes open for extended periods of time as he usually did around people to make them uncomfortable. His eyes were accustomed to being open for about ten minutes before drying out and he needing to blink but that was because he had done it so often. With Christina gone for most of the day and then sleeping the whole night, his eyes were losing their tolerance for not needing to blink.

The man walked out into the kitchen, his dirty hoodie draped over the couch. He opened the fridge and pulled out the half-full quart of milk. Popping the lid off, Jeff drank right from the opening before placing it back into the fridge, almost empty. He sighed and looked around the living room. Nothing. There was nothing to do. The only thing for entertainment was a small pile of books in the corner of the room. His groan echoed throughout the empty home as he walked back into the bathroom.

Finally bored so much that he was considering cleaning, Jeff stripped and stepped into the shower. Luke-warm water rained down on him as he stood there; trying to remember the last time he had showered. He couldn't. The murderer's hair clumped in wet knots to itself and his shoulders, causing him to realize just how nasty his hair felt. Jeff raked his hand through the dark brown locks, his fingers catching on multiple knots before he finally gave up and yanked his hand from the matted hair. The water pooling around the drain was a mixture of pink and murky browns.

He grabbed the bar of soap and began to scrub himself. After scrubbing both arms, the once white bar of soap was now pink and brown. Jeff mumbled a swear and began to wash the soap itself. How dirty was he? He had swam in rivers while hiding out in woods before and changed his clothes every once in awhile by stealing from his victims, but he never realized just how filthy his body was. Jeff continued to scrub himself and wash the soap afterwards, completely ignoring the scraggly mass that fell from his head.

By the time he was finished scraping the filth off his body, the bar of soap was a fifth of its original size. Jeff reached for the shampoo and squeezed a large dollop into his palm. He attempted to lather it into his scalp but felt as though he was only creating more knots. After washing it out –unsuccessfully- he coated his long locks with conditioner. Starting at the bottom, Jeff used his fingers to pull apart knots in his hair.

The intruder stepped out from the shower once done, his body freezing and his hair smooth, and wiped off the foggy mirror. He stared at his muscular body with raised eyebrows. His skin complexion seemed to lighten three tones. His white face no longer stood out in comparison to his pale body although he could still see the district lines where white met peach. Jeff snatched a brush off the counter and walked out into the living room.

 **.o.o.o.**

 _Bang!_

"Fuck," a muffled female voice giggled.

Jeff's eyes snapped open by the clamor outside the apartment door. It had sounded as though someone had stumbled and fallen, although the obnoxious giggle afterwards was peculiar. The tired man yawned and straightened himself in the lounging chair. He reached over the armrest and grabbed his knife from off the floor, ready to attack if need be. Something banged on the door once, and then a figure stumbled into the dark room.

"Hahahaha… I fell…"

Jeff watched as Christina crawled on the floor and shut the door. She sat, legs crossed and stared off into the dark kitchen, giggling periodically. Her stringy hair stuck around her face and her eyes drooped. She wore tight black pants and a revealing long sleeve shirt that gripped every curve. The smell of alcohol, sweat, and rain stung Jeff's nose as he stared at the pathetic scene. Christina hiccupped and glanced at him. Despite the darkness, Jeff saw her eyes squinting at him.

"Who're you."

Jeff grinned at the sitting woman, her drunken stupor the only entertainment he has seen in some time. She stood up, tripped, caught herself, balanced with her arms on the wall, and wondered over into the kitchen. Holding onto the wall as she moved, she made her way to the light switch and flicked it on, illuminating the dark rooms.

"Huh, I'm-" hiccup "- talking to you."

Jeff didn't say anything as he grinned at the intoxicated woman.

"Oh, silen-eatmen, huh? Yare one of 'ose guys," she slurred on. Christina stared at Jeff for a silent moment before screeching in frustration. "I've had 'nough a you ass 'oles. Leadenmeh onan usen meh. Fuck awloh you."

Jeff's dark left eyebrow quirked upwards as he watched Christina's mind unfold. The drunk woman stumbled over herself as she stepped away from the wall and towards Jeff but not yet leaving the plastic kitchen tile floor.

"You fuckahs," she continued on, her face red, "I'm sickah be-en used by you. You neva leave meh alone. Why? Huh? Why? I jus wanted a good time, ya know? But he 'ed I was uglay, 'at I was disgusting."

Jeff continued to watch with interest at the amusing scene. The woman took a few more unbalanced steps towards him as she began to rant about what seemed to be the problem.

"I shouldna let 'em turn the lights on. I shoulda stopped 'im. I neva do it wit lights on."

The drunk woman looked down with a somber expression before glaring daggers at the sitting man.

"Talk tah meh! Talk dammit! It's my fault!" Christina's voice cracked as she sputtered out her thoughts. "I know I was wrong but you didn't 'ave tah do that!"

Jeff's grin began to fade as the woman's performance took a turn. Christina's eyes brimmed with tears and her shoulders slumped as she stared at Jeff.

"I'm sowway! I tried to be bettah! I'm not good enough."

Tension formed in Jeff's forehead as he watched, ever silently.

"Well!" Christina blurted out, salty liquid now streaming down her face and mixing with the dried rain and sweat that stained her cheeks," aren't you gunna say any 'ting?" She was now standing in front of the old chair that Jeff observed her from. "I'ma failure. I can't get a good job. I 'ave no monay. I'm destroyen myself!"

Silence echoed loudly throughout the small apartment. The killer's stomach did a flip as he saw this woman fall apart. It was as if all her deepest pains were crawling out of her skin and he did not want to see any more of them. He felt nauseated and began shifting his position as if to become comfortable.

"My fadah was wite… I dezav this… I miss my maddah"

A moment passed before the distressed woman doubled over and vomited. Liquids with small lumps spewed from her mouth and splattered all over herself and the already stained carpet. Jeff was grateful that his feet were up at that moment but unfortunately he still had his sense of smell. A strong acrid scent burned his nostrils as Christina continued to empty her insides. Jeff stared at the woman in disgust.

' _Damn! Just how much crap is in her stomach?'_ Jeff wondered as Christina continued to hurl.

Jeff had rarely seen her eat in the two weeks that he had spent in her house and he confirmed that the liquids were alcohol and stomach acid as the pungent scent got stronger. He turned his head away and gave up on keeping his eyes open to disturb the woman. Despite the tolerance of his eyes, the vapors emitting from Christina's puke were powerful enough to irritate them.

When the retching sounds finally ceased, Jeff's senses were burning with irritation from the potent smells. He glanced over at Christina to see the exhausted woman curled up on the floor. She laid on her side near the edge of the vomit, her side rising and lowering with each shallow breath she took. Her eyes were barely open as she stared off into the sour liquids.

"Shit," Jeff groaned out. With another grumble of protest, he swung his feet off the crate and rose from the chair. The killer stood tall next to the fallen woman, a look of disdain on his face despite his next actions.

"Come on."

Despite Jeff's coaching and arms trying to lift her up, Christina did not cling onto him. She didn't even reach for him at all. It was as if the fallen woman was numb, completely numb to all her senses. Jeff grumbled in annoyance as he settled on lifting her into his arms bridal style. He looked down at her limp body, her matted hair, and her weak arms. She was lighter than a feather in his arms as he carried her to the bathroom. Her eyes drifted shut and opened slightly periodically but she made no indication of life. Her stress-wrinkled face was coated with a mixture of sweat, tears, drool, and vomit.

Jeff gently set her down in the tub, not bothering to wash it out first. He turned around and faced the open door, his eyes squeezed shut before opening and sighing. He should just leave her there, let her fall asleep in the tub and come back a different day. He should have actually moved on by now but he found the area easy to kill in. Jeff grunted as his shoulders relaxed and he turned back around. Christina was just sitting there, holding her knees and leaning against the cracked tiled wall, her eyes closed.

The man walked over and slowly lifted the exhausted woman's arms up so they rested on his shoulders. He then dipped his fingers below her shirt and gradually pulled it up and slid the filthy garment off her arms. Jeff has never been one to respect modesty of those he killed; frankly he did not want them in any sexual ways so he never cared for what clothes they were wearing. But in this moment as he saw Christina's full breasts covered by a stained and raggedy white bra, he felt embarrassed. Jeff attempted to avoid looking at her as he put the soiled shirt in the sink. Then the killer walked over and looked down at her tight pants. He couldn't leave them on her, could he? Jeff grumbled as he knelt down and began to slide the pants off her legs, intentionally avoiding looking at her. Christina didn't so much as budge as he did this, it was as if she didn't have a care at all what he did to her, that, or she was simply too tired to be concerned at all. She simply sat there, not cooperating nor struggling.

Jeff placed the pants in the sink as well and went back over to Christina but before he turned on the shower head, he looked down at her and stopped in his tracks. Scars. The thin frame of the woman was covered in scars. All along her arms, stomach, and legs resided the dark marks. Long, short, thin, thick, some clearly fading from age and some…. Some still scabbing over. Jeff stared down at Christina, his heart pounding against the cage of his chest and his mind surprisingly blank. He was shocked. It wasn't as though he thought she would never harm herself, but he had never put much thought into it. The butcher had seen similar gashes on his victims before, but never to this extent. He knew that self-harm was a common among those depressed but what he saw was far more than that in this woman's case. It looked at those she had been cutting herself with a variety of items for a multitude of years, and had been trying to bleed herself dry. Jeff turned his gaze to the bathroom floor and almost vomited as he saw dark red stains among the other grime that dirtied the floor.

He looked back at Christina and gulped the lump that had grown in his throat. Why was he acting so disturbed by this? He had never gotten so distraught before, and never over some lowly person's sob story. That's all she was. She was a random woman who he shouldn't even be taking care off.

"Fucken hell."

Jeff reached to turn the water on and stepped back as it sprayed down on the sleeping woman. She awoke with a start, her eyes wide and scared. Before she could speak a word, Jeff stalked out of the bathroom and out of the house. He pulled his hood up as he walked down the stairs and into the night.

His hands stayed in his hoodie pocket, slowly twirling the knife he made sure to grab before leaving as he walked the smelly streets. Hookers past by him and drunk men stumbled. People curled up on the side of buildings. Jeff ignored them and prowled on. He didn't want to look at them. He ignored the loud noises of a dangerous city at night, the melody of gun shots, yelling, fights, hushed whispers, and club music.

What was he still doing here? It relieved him that the police weren't on his trail, but that took out half the fun of killing! There was no longer a chase for him. When someone got killed in this neighborhood, it was as if the authorities expected it and just added the person to a list of other dates and times of deaths. It meant nothing. They didn't investigate it. Hell, Jeff could take his sweet time after a kill instead of rushing out because the police wouldn't come for at least half an hour after the screams. It was boring. Yeah, he had easy pickings and could enjoy the adrenaline of the slaughter at any time. He could sooth his demanding itches to kill, but it simply was not as fun. So why the hell was he still in this shit hole?

"Hey."

Jeff continued walking on, ignoring the deep voice that spoke.

"Hey faggot! I'm talking to you!"

Jeff stopped in his tracks, seething beneath the cover of hid hood.

"That's right. Now turn around nice and slow, hands out of pockets."

The corners of Jeff's mouth split as his forced smile became a feral and excited grin. A low chuckle echoed in the dark alley way. Gradually, Jeff turned around but he kept his head down and his hands in his hoodie pocket, toying with the knife he was desperate to use any second now. A man stood a couple feet in front of him, a gun in his hand.

"Hey freak, I said hands out!"

Jeff's chuckle became laughter.

"What the-" The man began to say in shock but was cut off as the chortle became a shrieking cackle. Jeff's head fell back and his hood fell onto his shaking shoulders.

"The fuck is wrong with you man!?"

Immediately the killer's cackling was silenced. With a snap of his head, Jeff looked at the man with a wicked gleam in his wide eyes. He tilted his head slightly to the side, just one of the many tricks he picked up that made people uneasy.

"With me? Nothing is wrong with me," Jeff responded in a smooth yet eerie tone, "But there is something wrong with you."

It was as if the man wielding the gun was frozen in fear, consumed by the sight before him. The man's blood drowned in the fear that flowed through his veins. His mind screamed at him to run as he watched his old prey-now predator- gracefully pull a knife out of his hoodie pocket. Jeff was walking towards him when the man's feet finally listened and he turned on his heel to flee, but it was too late.

"You're not sleeping!"

Jeff pounced on the man and began to stab him repeatedly. He brought his arm far back and lunge the blade down into the man's abdomen, grinning blood splattered him. Screams of terror filled the night air before they were over in just a short two minutes. Silence followed afterwards. It seemed as though the city around them had frozen in fear.

Jeff jumped up and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. He needed that kill, one that actually excited him instead of boring him. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the alley, prowling back into the night.

 **.o.o.o.**

 **The song is Rain by Breaking Benjamin. This is one of my favorite songs to listen to when I'm in a sad mood. It is so beautiful and takes you away on a gentle boat ride down emotional stream. The acoustic guitar and low voice will make you close your eyes and sway slowly as you mouth the words. I picked this song for the chapter because I think it can go for both Jeff and Christina. Well… The song doesn't go with Jeff's actions at the end but ya know. Lol.**

 **So Do you guys like this story? Would you rather me focus more on updating this story than In Love With A Killer? What do you think of how things are developing? Any ideas for the future? TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Please and thank you 3**

 **Also, any fanart or any long comment gets a shoutout on all of my accounts. 3**


	5. Chapter 5-Just Like Fire

She was running, her heart pounding faster than the strides she leapt. Darkness surrounded her and the scent of blood wouldn't leave her nostrils. Boarded up buildings and fallen people surrounded her regardless of where she went. The blue night sky covered with purple clouds gave her a sense of foreboding, and she knew, there was far more to come.

Christina ran into a random building, desperate to escape her surroundings. She rushed through the abandoned factory, her lungs practically collapsing under the physical strain. She tried to think of how long she had been running but couldn't remember; all she knew was that she had been running for awhile and could not stop any time soon.

Christina found an open door to a supply closet and bolted in, shutting the door and locking it securely behind her. Where was she supposed to go? What was she going to do? Christina held her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pain ricocheting through her. She couldn't remember when she started hearing their screams, but now it was overwhelming. The frightened woman crouched down against the wall as she tried to figure out what was going on.

When had she started running? She had been walking past the same deteriorating buildings on her way home when the sky grew dark. Then she started seeing the bodies, more and more pilling up on the streets as she passed. Christina tried to remember harder, despite the stabbing pain in her mind. She remembered feeling someone following her and started running in fear. She didn't want to end up like the mutilated bodies around her. Who could have done such sick and twisted things to a person?

Her stomach emptied on the dirty floor as she recalled the bodies outside, the mind showing her vivid images of their corpses. Who was she running from? It had to be the one who killed everyone, but it didn't make sense. One person alone couldn't do that much damage. It had to be a group. A group of terrorist. Breathing heavy once again, Christina tried to compose herself.

 _Clang!_

The woman's head shot up and stared with wide eyes at the door. Something out there had caused the metal to fall. That wasn't natural. It sounded like someone whipped a pole onto the concrete floor. Then in the silence, the soft echo of footsteps reached her ears. Instantly, Christina was up and running down the dark halls of the factory, praying to reach safety.

The steps were closer and closer. She started seeing bodies around her. An earthquake shook the building, causing it to break and fall apart. Thousands of poor, loving mothers and frail young children fell from the ceiling, their bodies bloody and broken. Christina screamed as she dodged the bodies and debris. Little bags littered the crumbling floor, gun shots and screamed echoed in her ears. She was running, she had to escape, she had to get away, she couldn't become what was around her. No, she had to run. She had to run. She had to run! Run!

"Gotcha!"

"NNNOOOOOOOOOO!"

…..

The woman's screams echoed in the silent room. She had bolted up in her bed, panting and shaking. Her messy hair hung down her back in a loose ponytail, escaped strands sticking to her panic stricken face. She clutched the blankets around her as her head snapped left and right, trying to remember where she was.

Christina took a shaking gasp of air into her aching lungs. Her clothes stuck to her due to the glue-like coating of sweat covering her body. Slowly, Christina brought herself to the edge of her bed and let her feet dangle down. With her elbows resting on her pale knees, she held her head in her hands.

 _'What…what happened?...'_

She had woken up from a nightmare; that much she knew. She had nightmares on a nightly basis, waking up from them in the dead of night was nothing new, but this time… This time something was wrong. Christina tried to remember her dream, struggling as her mind tried to grasp murky goo that slipped through its fingers.

Christina slowly breathed in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then gently released the air out of her lungs. She couldn't remember, and if she was being honest with herself, she probably didn't want to. Christina glanced over to her nightstand to look at the clock, but was prevented seeing it by a different object; in front of the glowing green numbers of her analog clock, stood a tall glass of a clear liquid. Next to the cup of water were two small white pills. Christina picked the two pills up and examined them. She couldn't remember having ibuprofen in her house, and now that she thought about it, Christina couldn't remember coming home.

It was now that she realized just how badly her head was throbbing. With a large gulp, Christina swallowed the two pills, and then took another gulp of the water, and another. Before long, the cup was empty and Christina was staring at the bright green numbers, breathing heavily. It was seven thirty… at night.

She took a shaky step up, trying to ignore how weak she felt. She had never run a mile in her life, but right now it felt like she had ran five miles in the hot desert. Christina slowly made her way into the bathroom, making sure to take careful steps in case she lost balance. With a flick of her finger, she turned the light on and immediately turned it off again. It was too bright. Sighing, she turned on the cold water, willing herself to rinse her sweaty face.

 _'Where was I last night?'_ Christina thought. She recalled going out but not coming home. It was normal for Christina to sleep in after being out late, but to have no memory of coming home and to sleep the rest of the next day? There was just something wrong with that.

The confused woman reached down to grab the towel on the floor to dry her face but stopped the moment the scent hit her nose. Vomit. The towel reeked of alcohol and puke. Christina covered her nose as she threw the soiled towel into her tub. She'd have to make a trip to the Laundromat tomorrow. It was due time anyways, a small pile of the only clothing she owned had begun to grow in her bedroom corner and Christina knew that she couldn't keep re-wearing dirty clothes.

Christina took lazy steps down the hall, covering her eyes as she went.

"T-turn that l-light off," she croaked out. Her own voice shocked her and her throat hurt. Everything felt strained and forced.

The kitchen light was off by the time Christina was fully in the front of her home, much to her relief. Not only was her head hurting, but now her eyes stung from the brief exposure to light. Despite the darkness, she knew where her forced-room-mate was. Jeff stood next to the front door, his white hoodie up and his hands by his sides.

"Morning sleeping beauty," he taunted.

Christina glared at him through squinty eyes, earning a light chuckle in response, before she waved her hand at him and made her way to the fridge.

"It smells awful in here. What did you do last night?" Christina groaned lightly from the light of the open fridge in her face.

A low chuckle echoed in her apartment but Christina was in too much of a foul mood to care for the undertones, or to notice the slight forcefulness of it. She pulled the pint of milk out of the fridge with the jelly and bread. Without paying much attention to the man less than ten feet away from her, Christina began making herself a sandwich.

"Hm? Me? I wasn't here last night. I came back around noon and found you out cold."

"Is that why you left me the water and ibuprofen," she mumbled her question.

She didn't notice the way Jeff froze up as she put the items back into the fridge, nor did she notice the way he stared at her.

"I didn't leave you anything," He finally replied.

Christina leaned her back against the fridge, eating her jelly sandwich as she squinted at the dark mass by her front door. Was it really necessary to talk? It hurt her throat and seemed to make her head hurt more. So why was she bothering to socialize with this creep who had imposed on her and acted like he owned the place? Sighing to herself, she stopped thinking about the reasons for her actions and simply accepted the fact she was lonely and still not fully awake yet. Besides, he was the only chance she would be able to figure out why she slept the whole day away.

"Did you vomit?"

"Hm?"

"The towel in my bathroom, it reeked of puke. Did you vomit in here? Is that why it smells bad?"

Christina's eyebrows knit together and a low grumble escaped her throat at this laugh.

"Sweetheart, that was you."

 _'I don't remember vomiting,'_ Christina thought to herself, although that would explain why her throat hurt so badly. Then again, she couldn't remember ever coming home last night.

She waited until his laughter died down before continuing with her questions, talking between bites of her sandwich.

"What else did I do?"

"I don't know," Christina flinched at his sudden biting tone, "I came back here and found a puddle of your puke next to my chair! I don't know what you did last night!"

Christina's voice was soft as she spoke again, "I didn't mean to upset you… I just can't remember anything…"

Jeff scoffed at her before walking over to 'his' chair and flopping down.

"You should drink more water. Most of what you hurled up was liquid."

Confusion clutched Christina's mind.

"But… I thought you weren't here to see me vomit?..."

"I wasn't! Someone had to clean up your damn mess!"

"Oh…" Christina gulped down the last bite of her sandwich, "I'm sorry…"

Silence echoed around them before Christina trudged back to her room. It was quiet in the house, and the lack of noise was louder than any sound she'd ever heard. Christina curled up in her bed, holding herself tightly. She was a mess and knew it. Christina bitterly laughed at herself, she had never been cleaned. She had always been a filthy mess since she was born. It was just how things were.

Her eyes grew heavy as her mind took a darker tone, although not once that was new to her. Christina hated her thoughts, hated her mind, hated herself, but that was what she knew. She knew how to hate herself and all she was. As painful and challenging as feeling all that was, she knew it and could easily do it. Christina smiled sadly to herself at the realization. She had made a home in this disastrous storm. She couldn't remember when, but long ago she must have burrowed herself a little den in the damp, cold ground that comforted her despite hurting her.

The last thing Christina's frail eyes comprehended seeing was a figure coming into her room and putting what appeared to be a cup of water in front of her clock.

.o.o.o.

"So, did you find a job yet Crissy?"

Christina ignored Jeff's annoying banter as she put her clothes away. The bag of freshly clean clothes and towels sat in the center of her bed. Before putting the items in the correct drawers, she folded each one into a perfect square, making sure not a corner was out of place.

"Did you decide not to get one so you don't break any nails Princess?"

The tired woman grit her teeth as she pulled out some underwear and began to fold them. Despite having slept for almost 48 hours, she still felt completely drained. Her body couldn't seem recover from the night out. For the millionth time, Christina wondered what the hell she did that night.

"Oooohh, that's a sexy pair of undies. Did you get a nose bleed in your pants darling?"

Christina snapped around before the man could see her face growing just as red as her stained underwear. Why had he decided to bother her so much this day? He had insisted on coming to the Laundromat with her, despite all her protests. After finally giving in, she told him that he would have to wear something besides his bloody hoodie. While Christina read after putting her clothes into the washer and paying the couple dollars in quarters, Jeff wandered around in one of her baggy black t-shirt which actually fit perfectly on him. He had repeatedly interrupted her reading to ask random questions or makes jeers at her, to which she unsuccessfully ignored. He had continued his annoying harassment while her clothes were in the dryer as well. Christina had ignored him to the best of her abilities, but he didn't seem to get the hint since they had come home.

"Awe. It's okay Chrissy. Sometimes I get blood stains on my clothes too. Although… the blood is never my own."

Christina's body tensed by his cackle afterwards. How long was she going to have to deal with this man? She pulled out a pair of jeans and began folding them.

"Still giving me the silent treatment, huh Chrissy? I'll get you to talk sooner or later," he taunted.

The tired woman rolled her eyes as she put her clothes away. It was almost seven pm, which meant her favorite club would be opening shortly and she could finally get some time away from Jeff. Christina knew that she shouldn't go out tonight; she had barely recovered from the other night and still couldn't remember what happened. Against her better judgment though, she pulled out a pair of tight pants and a revealing shirt.

"Leave. I've got to change."

Christina felt tingles go up her spine at his expression. The one raised eyebrow, a mischievous smile and confident eyes, the way he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame without a care in the world. The way Jeff carried himself, his whole demeanor; it all set red alarms off in her head. 'PREDITOR!,' the alarm bells screamed, 'RUN!'.

"Change? Why would you do that? You look breathtaking in your stained sweat pants and baggy long sleeve," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm and rolling his eyes when he said breathtaking.

Christina clenched the clothing in her fists tightly.

"I am going somewhere, so I need to change. Please get out of my room," she bit back.

Both of Jeff's patchy dark eyebrows went up, his eyes wider than usual. He placed his hands up in front of him as if a gun was pointing at him.

"Whoah. Princess, there is no need to be so vicious. I hadn't realized you were so feisty," he grinned.

If Christina could start fires with her mind, Jeff would be in flames. Despite not having that ability, she was sure that her face was as red as fire.

"Get out!"

"Okay, okay, okay. Only have to ask me once. Not like I wanna see your wrinkly ass anyways," he replied, eyes rolling as he turned around with a grin.

Christina marched over to her door and slammed it shut on Jeff's back. She ignored the familiar chuckle that came from the other side of the door as she began to strip.

"Fuck," she mumbled as the elastic from her sweat pants scraped over her thighs. Christina looked down and sighed, her face falling. There on her scared skin, were red scabs from the last time she hurt herself. In a few spots, the scabs had broken and bright red blood rose to the surface. How long ago did she cut herself this time? For all she knew, she could have cut herself yesterday and couldn't remember. It's not like it mattered though…

Christina used her sweat pants to soak up the small amount of blood before squeezing herself into the tight pants. She took off her bra and slipped into the shirt. The long sleeves covered her arms but left just under her belly button exposed. It drifted down to her waist in the back with frilled edges. Her breasts were pushed together and after adjusting it some, they almost jumped out of the shirt. Christina went into the bathroom and took her blonde hair out of its ponytail. She began to brush the long knotted strands.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Christina glared over at her deranged house guest. How long had he been standing there? She set her hair brush down and grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Where I go is none of your business," Christina replied before putting the toothbrush in her mouth. Instantly, she regretted her statement. Jeff's cocky grin turned dark. He scowled at her, his eyes furious. He radiated fury, the dim bathroom light outlining his hard features.

"It is when you come home drunk off your ass and can't stand up."

Christina ignored the voice in her head telling her to be submissive. The voice screamed at her to apologize and cower like she had done all her life, but she ignored it. Jeff was a psychotic serial killer that had been keeping her alive for seemingly his own amusement. She shouldn't stand up to him or challenge him, but something inside her was being set on fire. The longer his presence occupied her space, it seemed to light a match and send her nerves up into flames. Flames that she didn't think she was capable of.

Christina's face was red with anger as she tore the tooth brush out of her mouth and spit in the sink before turning to face Jeff.

"So you were here when I came home! You know what happened and aren't telling me! What the fuck does it matter what I do or where I go to you anyways! I don't want you here! I am sick of having to make you food that you say is disgusting and clean up after you and try to ignore when you reek of death and are covered in blood! Why won't you leave me alone!"

There was silence, and then Christina's eyes went wide. Jeff's face was hard as stone.

"I… I'm so sorry," she whispered, quickly trying to repair the inevitable damage. Would he kill her now? Was he going to torture her? Or was he going to do something worse?

Christina began to shiver as Jeff's head lowered, his thick locks falling in front of his eyes. The room seemed to darken around her despite the bright bathroom light. Her breathing quickened as her mind raced. In the silence, she swore she could hear Jeff's heavy breaths, slow and deep.

Christina screamed and fell, her hands going to cover her head. She was shaking and crying. Jeff hadn't punched the wall next to the door, it was her father. Her father was standing above her, grumbling under his breath. Christina began to beg. She begged him to leave her alone, to go away, and to stop hurting her. She cried out, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. His predatory growl echoed inside her head.

Her body jumped at the sound of a door slamming. Then… silence. Christina slowly lowered her arms that were shielding her head. Cautiously, she raised her head and looked up. Her father was not standing in the doorway, no one was there. Christina looked to the bathroom wall next to the door. A hole was in her wall, the hole went all the way through and she could see into the hallway.

The woman continued to shiver as she stood up and quietly stepped out of her bathroom. No one was there. Her father had never been there. Jeff. It was Jeff who had been here. It was Jeff who had spun around and punched the wall. Where was he? Christina walked into the living area and looked around. Various trash littered the stained carpet, a few crushed cans around 'Jeff's' chair. There were cups, silverware, and a few other dishes in the sink. Crumbs reside on the counters and a few familiar bugs crawled around. Why was she living in this place? It was no better than the shit hole she had grown up in. What was she doing with her life?

Christina left the disgusting place as memories leaked from her eyes. She didn't want to think about her apartment. She didn't want to think about how it was practically identical to the one she grew up in.

Christina walked down the dark streets.

She didn't want to think about how this city was no different than the one she was scared to walk down as a child. She didn't want to remember her father. She didn't want to remember her family.

Christina walked into her favorite club.

She didn't want to remember the lonely days or the terrifying nights. She didn't want to think about how she had turned into everything her father had always said she would. She didn't want to think about how pathetic her sad, little life was.

Christina made her way through the dancing people and down the back hall.

She didn't want to think about her life. She didn't want to think about her home. She didn't want to keep living this life. She wanted to forget.

Christina spoke softly to the man standing in front of a dark door. He nodded, knocked on the door twice, and opened it for her. Christina walked into the room and observed her surroundings. Four men and two women sat in chairs and on a sofa around a table. On the table there were various items, the most prominent being money, white powder, and needles.

.o.o.o.

Her body was sore and bent in uncomfortable angles. Her head and neck was the worst of all her pain though. Groggily, Christina began to sit up, much to her body's discomfort.

"What… what happened…" She mumbled to herself and reached for her head. The woman looked around her. She was in her home, sitting in her living room chair. At least she was in familiar territory. Wait… in her living room chair?

Christina jumped up and instantly fell due to the world spinning. She was so dizzy. Where was Jeff? What day was it? Christina groaned out in pain and using the chair to pull herself up, she stood. The apartment looked as it did last night, or the other night, or a few days ago? She couldn't remember when she had last been in her house. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she remember anything?

Christina made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water from the sink. One cup. Two cups. Three cups. She drank six cups of water before finally stopping. Her body was jumping inside itself. Her head pounded like a drum.

'Think. Think. Think. What is the last thing you remember?! There has to be something. You are so stupid!' Christina chided inside herself.

Jeff. She remembered Jeff. He was mad at her. He had been like a bored child, annoying her constantly when she had done laundry early in the day. Then he got mad at her when they were home.

Christina hobbled down the hall and towards the bathroom. She pulled her tight pants down and sat, needing to relieve herself. Her eyes wandered around as continued to try and remember something. Then… the door caught her eye. Well, not exactly the door. It was the wall next to the door.

A hole. There was a large hole in the wall that went all the way through.

"What… what happened?"

Christina washed her hands and went into her bedroom.

Her room was a mess. Her clothes were scattered all around the room, the dresser drawers on the floor. The sheets and blankets were ripped and pulled from her mattress. Christina fell to her knees and held herself.

.o.o.o.

It had been a week. One full week with no sign of Jeff, and it was starting to scare her. Christina found herself sitting on the floor, staring at the living room chair that he had claimed. She had cleaned up as much of the home that was possible, but everything still felt wrong. Something was seriously off. Every time Christina heard footsteps in the outside hall, her skin tingled, her spine jumped, and her heart pounded against her chest. And every time that the steps went past her door, Christina's shoulders fell, her mind went blank, and her eyes drooped.

It had become a daily habit of hers, sitting in the front area of her home; waiting. The woman had repeatedly pondered what she was truly waiting for. Sometimes she thought she was sitting and just waiting for the time to pass. The world around her felt so strange and wrong, and she couldn't decide on what was the problem. Other times she thought she was waiting for Jeff to come back and to sit in his chair and tell her to make food. She was waiting to be ready to help him the moment of his return. Then she would sometimes have this realization that maybe… maybe she was waiting for her death.

Regardless of what she was waiting for, Christina spent a majority of her time at home sitting… sitting and waiting. Then, the best thing happened.

It was on her every-other day walk around her town. She would check the places she had applied to and then apply to others. The last place on her stop was Burger King and she wasn't feeling too confident. The tired woman walked into the busy fast-food restaurant and walked up to the front counter and stood to the side patiently.

"Hi, how can I help you?"

Christina tried her best to smile, "My name is Christina. I've applied for a job here."

"One moment, let me get the manager."

Christina steadied herself, focusing on breathing slowly and evenly. A few minutes later she was sitting at one of the tables across from one of the three managers. Five minutes later, she was signing papers. One hour later, she was getting ready to go dancing and drinking to congratulate herself.

.o.o.o.

Christina danced to the heavy bass flooding through her system. Sweaty bodies were all around her, most of them intoxicated as well. Her eyes were closed and she danced, a large smile on her face. Two weeks. She had been working for two full weeks with minor mistakes. Every day she had worked a full eight hour shift, came home, showered, and went to bed; tomorrow though she had a day off, so tonight she was going to indulge herself.

Tight lacy shorts covered her scarred thighs, all recent wounds healed. She hadn't harmed herself in some time and despite the urges to do so, it was a good thing. Her scars though were hard to see in the dim lighting and the black lacy shorts she wore, effectively hiding her pain from anyone admiring her body. It wasn't as if she didn't want to, her urges seemed to be at an all time high since the incident with Jeff… the incident she had been desperately trying not to think about. No, she simply didn't have the energy to indulge in that habit of hers. A revealing black crop top with long sleeves made of lace covered her arms. The lacey design covered her stomach, leaving her midriff to be desired and her lower back to be admired.

Christina's hair was up in a tight pony tail with only a few shorter strands hanging down to cup her thin face. She had taken to wearing the blonde locks in such a style so it would not interfere with her cleaning and working. Her home was still as barren of furniture and comfort as always, but it was much cleaner than before. She had scrubbed and scraped the floors, walls, counters, tub, and every nook and cranny she came across. Despite the damage the apartment had, not a spot of mold or dirt would be found in it now.

Her legs burned as they moved, still not adjusted to the constant strain they were under. Christina was a diligent worker, trying her best to always be moving and doing something, even as minimal as washing tables. The only time she sat after waking up was on her break and when she finally laid down to sleep. And now, she was celebrating.

The pain in her legs was ignored and she sensually moved her body, surely catching the eyes of many lone men in the vicinity. Christina made sure to dance only at the edge of the group of people, in front of the bar as well. This way she would be easily spotted and hopefully one of her admirers would join her. Her arms rose above her head as she smiled sweetly to the bar, still keeping her eyes closed as her jiggling breasts drew attention to themselves. It was perfect. And the best part of it all? Ecstasy was flowing through her veins, making everything so much more intense. Her body felt slightly numb but in a rush. Her mind was distracted yet open. The lighters were brighter, the sounds were vibrant, and the sensation of silk and lace on her body was much more intense and soothing. It was all perfect. She was celebrating. This time though, she made sure to not take too much. Christina wanted to remember this night of celebration, but she wanted to feel everything to the fullest.

She had begun to ignore the anger at herself for doing drugs, just as her father had. Christina wasn't her father, she told herself, and she wasn't going to get addicted. Her money was well spent when she got the glorious white powder into her system, and she wasn't endangering anyone else.

Christina turned her body to the rhythm of the music, causing her butt to bounce towards the men at the bar.

No, she wasn't endangering anyone else. That was the biggest reason why she was not her father, despite enjoying the sensation the drugs caused. They also numbed her emotions, or at least made it easier to ignore the raging storm that constantly tore her mind and heart apart.

Calloused hands slid around her waist, going under the lace and gripping her midriff. She felt pressure on her ass as the man pushed himself against her. He began to lick and nibble on her earlobe, causing her to shiver in excitement from the feeling. It was a secret of hers that she never told any of the men she was with, but Christina loved it when her ears were paid attention to.

"You're far too beautiful to be all by yourself," a husky voice whispered into her ear.

Christina pushed herself up against the man's front, causing him to chuckle lightly as she danced against him.

"Then you should accompany me," she replied back in a silky smooth voice.

"It would be my pleasure," was his reply.

They danced for a short time before she felt herself being casually led to the exit of the club. Christina followed gladly, looking forward to any plans this man had of making her night even better. Soon they were in the cold night air and Christina felt hard bricks on her open back as she was pushed against the building. Lips greeted hers and a tongue entered her mouth soon after. Christina responded positively as she wrapped her arms around the man.

"Got anywhere close we can go?"

Christina grinned into his kiss.

"Yeah, my place," she replied.

Christina held his hand as she walked down the dirty streets to her apartment building. The man followed without complaint. She didn't even know his name, but she didn't need to. He would likely be gone by the time she woke up tomorrow evening, and she didn't have any money for him to steal. She hid it all in a hole in her mattress under her bed.

They walked up the stairs, him behind her so he could get a nice view of her plump butt. Christina's veins were jumping with excitement, her skin covered in goose bumps. Celebrating, that's what she told herself. It was all okay because she was celebrating.

 _Click_

Christina opened the door to her apartment easily, the man's hands holding her hips. She gave a little shake to entertain him as she stepped into the dark apartment. Instantly she was pushed up against the wall, his lips on hers. Christina giggled into the kiss, melting into him.

And then…

Crimson.

Christina gasped out in fright, her eyes wide and her limbs frozen. The bulky man fell against her body and slid down, leaving a trail of blood as he fell to the floor. Christina's sharp breathing was the only sound after the soft thud of the body finally falling into a heap on the floor. Her arms were still frozen in mid air, giving the appearance that they were wrapped around and invisible body.

Jeff stood in front of her, his knife covered with blood and his sweatshirt drenched in old and new blood. He reeked of grime, sweat, blood, and death. His hair was dirty and matted again as it fell in front of his face. Despite the darkness shielding his face, Christina knew that the permanent smile was practically growling.

"J-Jeff…"

The killer looked up slowly, his eyes showing through the darkness. Christina shivered from his eyes, eyes full of anger… and something else.

"Why," Christina mumbled to him. Jeff lowered his arm, the bloody knife dripped onto the clean floor, staining it once again. "Why?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that Chrissy. I get asked why on a regular basis with no indication of what they are asking the reason for. It does get rather confusing sometimes."

Jeff's voice was gruff and slightly strained, and despite making jabs at her as usual, there seemed to be no amusement in his tone.

"You left," she began slowly, anger beginning to bubble just below the surface, "You left and were gone. I thought I was finally rid of you… I've… I've got a job and… and I've cleaned up…"

Jeff was silent before speaking again, "yeah, the place looks nice. I almost didn't recognize it."

Christina's face hardened. She wasn't scared, and deep down that worried her. She wasn't scared of Jeff at all, nor of the fact he had just killed someone right in front of her and their blood was on her clothes. She wasn't scared at all. No. Christina was angry.

"You leave for weeks and then just show up one night when I was celebrating! And you _kill_ my entertainment! Who do you think you are?!"

Jeff chuckled, "I knew there was a reason for you to look so nice. I knew you weren't just fucking another random guy like a slut."

Christina completely overlooked the fact that he had complimented her, instead her insides flared up at the word ' _slut'._ A dormant volcano resided in her, and Jeff had a habit of making it explode.

The sound of flesh smacking flesh echoed in the apartment. Jeff's head was thrown to the side and Christina's hand was stinging. The burning sensation that was flooding her hand was almost as bad as the same painful one in her exhausted legs.

Christina's breaths came in slow, shallow gasps. Part of her wanted to beg for forgiveness and apologize for the awful thing she had just done. The other part of her was excited. It was excited, infuriated, and thrilled. Just below her skin there was a jumping feeling as her whole body responded to her emotions. Adrenaline seeped through her body. She had slapped him. She had truly, actually, really slapped him. Christina had finally stood up for herself, and… she liked it. This feeling of power… authority. However minor it was… she liked it.

Jeff slowly turned back to her, the large grin on his face practically stretching from ear to ear.

"You're getting feisty Christina."

The empowered woman stared at him, her mouth agape. This wasn't what she had expected. Christina had expected him to lash out at her or at least threaten her. This though? It was as if he found the whole situation amusing, as if it pleased him.

"Get lost Jeff," Christina growled as she crossed her arms over her chest.

The intruder only chuckled, "No, I don't think I will."

"And why is that," she snapped.

Jeff's eyes glinted with mischief and amusement, his grin becoming more sly. He tilted his head slightly before speaking in a low hum.

"Because I think you like me here."

"And what in the world would make you think that?!"

"I think you missed me while I was gone in fact. Not knowing where I was or what I was doing. Were you worried about me Chrissy? Did the thought of me getting harmed keep you up at night?"

Christina's cheeks went up in flames, her eyes hard but unable to hide any of her inner emotions and thoughts. He was mocking her, and they both knew it. And although Christina didn't want to admit it, she knew that part of what he was saying was true.

"I don't want you here," Christina responded quietly.

"Don't lie to yourself sweetie. You're lonely without me."

Christina looked at the body on the floor. He was a rather handsome man, in his mid thirties probably. He might have had dreams or goals, maybe a family somewhere. None of that mattered anymore though. He was dead. He hadn't done anything wrong though. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"We got to take care of him," she mumbled.

Christina's head snapped up at Jeff's cackling.

"We? You mean… the both of us?"

Jeff continued to laugh at Christina's confused face. Slowly, a grin formed on his lips.

"Well Princess, if you really want to help me hide a body, then be my guess."

Jeff cackled some more as Christina's eyes widened. She didn't mean it like that!

"No, no, no, no," The flustered woman began as she shook her head, "You hide the body. You killed it."

Jeff spoke between fits of laughter, " 'the body'? When did 'he' become 'it'. Chrissy, you have got to make up your mind."

Warmth flooded her cheeks at his teasing. She didn't even know why she was so flustered instead of scared or upset like she should be. It wasn't the first time she had seen a dead body, or had a person killed in front of her, but shouldn't she be at least… a tiny bit distressed? A human… a _person_ had just been murdered in cold blood in front of her. She had the man's blood on her own clothes. Yet all she felt was embarrassment, and anger.

"Would you-… Just-…. Hide the body Jeff!"

Jeff stopped laughing and stared at her, his face as serious as it could be with a permanent smile. Despite praying that her neighbors didn't hear her yell, Christina didn't back down. She stared at Jeff, determination in her eyes, a pout on her lips, and color dusting her cheeks.

"You gunna help me Princess?"

The woman's composure didn't falter as she locked eyes with the killer. His serious gazes were always intense and seemed to affect Christina far more than his maniacal laughter ever did. She wanted to shiver and look away from his hold on her eyes, but refused to.

"Fine."

.o.o.o.

 **Berger King is spelled that way because I don't want to get into any copy right trouble.**

 **First I want to say sorry for all the time skips and if that caused any confusion. I've had trouble writing this chapter. This chapter was supposed to be a sort of 'transition' chapter into the next part of this story. I apologize if I didn't write it out correctly and I am open to advice on how I could have written this chapter better!**

 **I've been leaving a trail of foreshadowing that –in my opinion- is very obvious. Let me know if you've caught it and what you think is going to happen… or did happen! If you have any ideas for the next chapters, let me know too! I love the feedback and I want you all to feel as though you have a part in writing this story.**

 **The song is "Just Like Fire By Pink". I had trouble picking the song to match this chapter. The other songs I considered for this chapter were "Get Lucky By Daft Punk", "One Too Many By Three Days Grace", "Skin and Bones By Marianas Trench", and "Coming Down By The Dum Dum Girls". I decided on Just Like Fire because it is an upbeat song with multiple different meanings and symbolism that I feel goes with this chapter. Christina is giving into drugs and fighting herself. She feels put down by society and is dealing with the realization that she is at the bottom of the food chain. Jeff and her got into a fight and she doesn't was to face how she is becoming numb to Jeff's habit of murder and is finding his company pleasing. She is trying to run from her problems and at the same time trying to get ahead in her life. I imagine this song playing when Christina was dancing in the club when she was celebrating.**


	6. Chapter 6- At War

**HAY ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! Alright, I know it has been awhile… FOUR *$!%$# months actually. I had been going through a lot honestly.**

 **I was in a very bad relationship, dealing with home problems, then final advanced regents exams came, still dealing with the shit relationship and then got fucked over by some fake, cowardly, 'friends', and spent some time in the hospital. I am HAPPY to inform you all that I am now living at my mother's house, completely out of the relationship I was in, cut all those shitty people out of my life, passed all but one exam, and am recovering well from being in the hospital.**

 **It's taken me some time to feel this way, I have been struggling a lot through getting out of the relationship, having to cut out those 'friends', moving households, and recovery. Despite all the shit though, I passed all but one exam, I've gotten a promotion at my job, bought my own car, reconnected with distant family and cousins, bought myself a laptop, and working hard as hell to recover and be healthy.**

 **I've learned a ton of lessons from the past months and it would benefit you to learn them also. Hopefully you take them in as I list them instead of having to learn them through experience.**

 **1)** **YOUR FRIENDS ARE NOT FAMILY! Sometimes you will meet someone who is the world, your other half, should have crawled out of the same womb and everything. Hopefully, your relationship with them is a long, healthy, and happy one. However… Something may happen where they don't treat you like Family, where they don't even treat you like a friend.. Drop them. There are far better people in life than someone like that.**

 **2)** **DO NOT STAY IN AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP! We hear this all the time. "Just leave him/her." "Why did you go back?" and the worst, "It's your fault." Stop. Don't victim shame. Unless you have been in an abusive relationship, you have no damn idea of what it is like and how someone can twist, manipulate, confuse, and trap a person. Don't blame or judge the victim. Even if you don't want to go out of your way to help them or you think that have fault in the situation, at least keep your thoughts to yourself and realize what is the most important and serious. Let them know you believe them, suggest they get help, offer some sort of support (even the tiniest thing as a good-morning text or a random invite out), and don't associate with the abuser. If you are in an abusive relationship… Get help. Get out of denial. Push through the fear and manipulation and reach out to someone who can really help you. There are many help lines, services, group therapy, police, trusted family members, etc.**

 **3)** **DO NOT LEAVE YOUR FRIENDS DRUNK AT A PARTY! No matter WHAT THEY SAY. Never. NEVER leave a friend, especially a female, drunk at a party or a gathering. This should be self-explanatory and go without say. No matter if the others there are your friends or if the drunk friend says they will just spend the night there. Don't do it. It's better for them to get in trouble because they are drunk and their parents need to pick them up than for something terrible to happen to them while they are drunk and alone and not thinking clearly.**

 **4)** **YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN GRADES! No explanation needed.**

 **5)** **YOUR FRIENDS ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS! Be careful who you become friends with. Be careful with how much you share with your friends. Not everyone who smiles at you and spends time with you is really looking out for your best wellbeing.**

 **6)** **STAND UP FOR WHATS RIGHT, EVEN IF YOU ARE STANDING ALONE! Stand up. Stand together. Even if you are alone. Even if there are only a few of you. Don't be a sheep with blinders on. One is better than none. Two is stronger than one alone. Three and four is a loud voice. Stand. No matter what others say, think, or do.**

 **7)** **YOU WILL SURVIVE AND EVEN THRIVE! I've just hit ya'll with some harsh realities that hurt… But guess what. You can get through it! Life is hard, and people are shit. But there are good people. You are strong. You can get through whatever life beats you with. And recover. And learn the lessons. And be stronger. Build a beautiful castle out of the bricks life and people throw at you. If you ever need anything, feel free to message me.**

 **ON THAT LOVELY NOTE! On with the story! 3**

 **.o.o.o.**

"Christina! Can you go any slower?! We have a line of customers waiting!"

Christina silently nodded to the yelling woman's complaints and continued to scoop fries into little cardboard container. She rushed to put the correct food in the correct bags for each order that was shown on the screen above.

Behind her, Britney was taking counter orders. With each person who began to say their order, Britney would interrupt them, causing her to put in the wrong food, resulting in wrong food for the person and very annoyed customers.

The dinner rush was never ending. It was one car after another, after another, after another. The line of cars that were shown on the camera screen went around the building, informing the employees that there were at the very least ten cars lines up. Around fifteen people stood in the winding line in front of the register. The fast food restaurant had been busy like this for the past hour and it wasn't even eight at night yet.

"This isn't what I ordered! I wanted NO pickles, extra onion, and cheese! This isn't even warm!"

Christina ignored the order coming through on her head set; Jill would take the order since she was by the drive-through window.

"I'm so sorry sir," She began, pausing her actions of putting food in bags and turning around to face the man at the counter, "I will have the kitchen make you a new sandwich."

"I don't want a new sandwich! I want better service!"

Christina held her tongue as the man threw his burger onto the counter, creating a mess, and stormed out of the glass doors. Was it really necessary to do that? The man could have just as easily said no and thrown the burger out.

"Christina would you clean that up," Britney snapped at her. Not even two seconds had passed since the sandwich had splattered all over the counter and she was already nagging.

"Sure."

Begrudgingly, the woman bent down to the lower shelf and pulled the cleaning rag out of the red bucket. She began to pick off the various food toppings and toss them into the garbage while wiping the ketchup and grease splatters.

"Christina!"

She didn't even have to look up.

"Yes Britney?"

"Can you take this guy's order? He can't make up his mind."

"Britney!"

"Yes," She responds back, her voice filled with attitude.

I walk over to the register and ignore the way Britney jabs into my side as she walks over to the food and packing station.

"I am so sorry sir. What can I get for you?"

The afternoon drove on with multiple orders, complaints from customers, Britney ordering her around yet doing no work herself, and lots of cleaning. Every time Britney did the dishes or cleaned the counters, Christina would have to redo it. Food was left on the cooking and storage containers, syrup was left on the counter from making milkshakes and oils would sit on the fry grill. Customers were stupid, rude, and complained that they got the wrong food, the kitchen workers got angry at having to work so fast with constant demands, and the manager sat in the office on his fat ass. It was just an average day of working.

Finally, nine pm came and the dinner rush slowed down to a car about every ten minutes. Christina took a moment to rest against the back sink. In one hand she held a cup of warm coffee, free courtesy of her being a worker in the facility. Oils coated her face due to the grease in the air. Her legs hurt from standing all day without a moment to sit and her head was pounding like a drum.

All day Britney had failed to do her job properly. If Britney washed the dishes, Christina would have to rewash them because there would be food and sauces left on them. When Britney took an order she would put something in wrong and the customer would complain. If Britney decided to actually do something useful and pack bags, she would put the wrong food in for the customer it was for. Whenever Christina asked Britney to do something, as simple as stocking the cups or getting the used trays from the dining room, Britney would either complain about it or say no. Instead, the snobby woman would lean against the wall and go on her phone, leaving Christina to do all of her tasks AND Britney's.

"Hey Christina!"

Christina closed her eyes, her thin fingers tightening around her cup ever so slightly. Maybe if she just stood here quietly, Britney would forget about her and go away.

"Christina!"

Britney's shrill voice yanked the exhausted woman from her thoughts.

"Yes Britney," She replied calmly, her eyes still closed and her bitten nails digging into her cardboard cup.

"You need to stay up front! I just went to the back and when I came back, there were three people in line! Justin yelled at me for making them wait!"

Christina's eyebrows arched down over her closed eyes. Finally the manager had yelled at her for something.

"I told you I was going to drink some coffee. Since I left first, it was therefore your job to stay up front until I came back or you got me."

"You're the one taking coffee breaks! You had a lunch break today, that is when you can drink your coffee!"

Her body was stiffer than stone, anger swelling inside her. This chick had been working here far longer than Christina had, yet Christina was always doing more work. It was absolute hell to work with Britney. Christina had tried being nice and minding her own business, but after dealing with the bitch on a daily basis for weeks now… She was close to losing her patients.

"Fine, I will just put aside my one moment of rest to do your work. Please continue to do nothing except stand on your phone where customers can see you."

A small smirk formed on Christina's lips as she walked around the stunned woman and back up front.

"Don't walk away from me you homeless bitch!"

Christina stopped.

"What?"

"You heard me. Everyone knows you sell yourself just to get money. We all know you slept with the boss to be hired here. You're a slut."

Christina's body screamed. Her senses were going into overdrive. Everything felt so extreme, like pins and needles going through her body. Loud voices echoed inside her head. Ghost hands grazed her body, cupping her in places that should only belong to her.

 _'Slut'_ Yes. That was what she was. She had known it since she was little. Many people had called her that, screamed it in her face.

Christina lowered her head, her boney shoulders arching forward around her as if they were forming an impenetrable shield.

"Okay…"

The woman's slouching form oozed up to the front counter and began to take orders as needed. She silently went about stocking the sauces, packing fries into tiny cups, and making sure everything was wiped down. Each task, each person, each sentence, it all went by with the same monochromatic sense to her.

It was early in the morning when her shift finally ended. Christina gripped the worn coat close to her body despite the random holes where the city cold seeped into her tired bones and aching muscles. She hugged herself, the only comfort she'd ever known in a long time, as she walked down the dark ally. Despite the eerie quite, the dark city was alive with predators everywhere. The city was a jungle, the buildings the trees. The sounds of jaguars pouncing and snakes constricting their prey echoed throughout the darkness. Bottles clattered on cracked cement walks and stay animals roamed about.

Christina passed by the familiar dumpster that resided behind her apartment complex. The large thing was rarely emptied and chances were that no one would look inside it. Even the homeless avoided the large dumpsters in this part of town.

 _Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump._

Christina's eyes were locked forward, her head straight. She passed by the large, smelly waste-holder without one glance. Sweat dripped down her temple, causing her stringy hair to cling to her skin. Christina's small muscles strained against her hollow bones with every step she took.

' _What was I thinking?!'_

The gloomy ally seemed to engulf her tiny figure. The darkness, the secrets, the adrenaline, it was reaching around her with its large muddy hands and gripping her tightly, tripping her and pulling her deep into the shadows. The gross scent of a rotting body infiltrated her nostrils.

The dark alley disappeared into the entryway of her apartment. Large amounts of blood stained her floor that she wouldn't be able to get out no matter how much of the blood she soaked up. Jeff's commands to get some garbage bags as he chopped the body up echoed in her ears. The gagging repulsion as she helped shove the various parts into two black bags. The nervous laughter as they hauled the bags down the steep stairs. How she tripped on the last step and dropped the bag with a squeal that disturbed a stray cat in the hall. The way Jeff laughed at her and said she was like that kitten. How she got confused whether he was complimenting her or insulting her. The adrenaline that pumped through her veins as she carried one of the bags out into the night chill and behind the building. How she followed Jeff and bounced as she threw the bags up and into the dumpster. The goofy grin she got when Jeff laughed and said she wasn't bad.

Christina opened the screen door to her complex and stepped into the hall. The wall paper was peeling and the fake tile floor was broken in multiple spots. The mail boxes were either empty or crammed with overdue bills.

She stepped up the stairs, refusing to hold onto the wooden railing that was no longer secured to the wall in various places. The width of each step was thin, only about two feet at most. If anyone in the building wanted to put good furniture in their apartment, it would either have to be in pieces or the elevator would need to be repaired.

Silently, the tired woman walked into her apartment. She never bothered to lock it anymore and if she did, Jeff or someone else would break the lock. It wasn't uncommon for people to invade another's home and steal some food or anything valuable, but Christina didn't have anything worthwhile to be stolen.

Jeff was nowhere to be found. His chair was empty and the house was quiet. Taking careful steps, she wandered into the bathroom and let her hair down. Her skull seemed to breathe in relief after being in the tight pony for so long. The blonde woman shook her head while running her frail fingers through the wispy locks. How long would she keep living this way? Throwing her hair up into strangling tight pony tails, working with people who degrade her, and destroying herself every night? How long would she keep missing meals, waking up without memory, and sleeping with random men?

Christina's hands gripped onto the counter as liquid rushed down her face and crashed in large splashes. How long?! How long was she going to jump between being homeless, living dirt poor, and never getting anywhere else? How long!

Christina's fist smashed into the wall, causing more dry wall to crumble down into the inner crevice. Red, puffy eyes glanced up, messy hair falling around her face. That's right… Christina fixated on the hole, drywall and degrading wallpaper crumbling inwards to the abyss.

 _'Jeff's fist…'_

"I really took out a good chunk, didn't I?"

Soft fingers froze in their caressing of the construction. In an instant she was standing up, her arms crossed in front of her, and her eyes hard. Tears dried on Christina's face and her eyebrows formed a hard line. Blonde hair poofed around her narrow face, giving her the look of an angry baby lion.

Jeff tried not to smile at the picture before him but his lips formed a soft grin. He kept his eyes downcast though, intentionally staring at the hole on the hallway-side of the wall. Jeff's hand held onto the door frame, and his hair fell beside his hard jaw line, giving him a protective sheet of privacy.

"What?!"

"The wall," Jeff murmured gently. It was strange. For once he wasn't proud of his violent actions. "When I punched it, my fist went right through it."

"Oh," Christina noted, her aggressive stance slowly loosing might. Her shoulders dropped down and her closed hands lost much of their strained tension. She looked like a deflated balloon.

"I'm sorry about that. I'll have to watch myself more."

Christina's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. _'Did he… just...?'_ If any had seen the scene before them, they would have sworn the woman jumped back eight feet and jumped right out of herself, skin and work clothes all.

Jeff's patchy eyebrows pulled together. It was strange. He hadn't apologized in years… not since his last visit to a familiar grave… The words tasted strange leaving his chapped lips. The murdering man shifted from one foot to the other. She was just staring at him! Why was she looking at him like that?!

"I'm going out for a few days. I don't know when I'll be back."

"Oh…" The woman's face fell, her wide eyes becoming drooping slits. It was as if sand bags were pulling down on her pale skin, dragging her whole body down into despair.

Jeff took a few steps into the hall, catching himself before he tripped over his own feet. What was wrong with him? Her empty eyes gazed down at the cracked floor. Why? The sensation of cockroaches crawling up his abdomen caused him to shift in place once again. He had actually had cockroaches crawling on his stomach before due to sleeping under bridges and behind city buildings before, but this was different. Jeff knew that there were no cockroaches on him despite the pesky insect living in the apartment building. No. This was different because… they were crawling up inside him. One crawled up his esophagus and seemed to curl up in the back up his throat, causing him to swallow the non-existent lump.

"Okay."

Her voice cracked as she shut the door in his face.

.o.o.o.

Jeff leaned against the brick wall in the darkness. Soft puffs of smoke escaped his nose and mouth after each inhale of his cigarette, soothing his muscles and mind. Christina had been working all week and tonight she had gone out to her usual nightclub. Jeff's eyebrows noticeably narrowed as the prospects of what the woman was doing in there entered his mind.

He took another drag of his cigarette. Seneca greens were his favorite and it just so happened the last person he killed had a pack on them. A slight chill tried to invade his body as fog settled on the city streets, blurring anything in the distance. He'd been standing here for a while, quite longer than he wanted to admit. It wasn't like he was stalking the woman he had found an interest in; he simply had nothing better to do than watch her go about her sad little life.

The club doors opened and a rather large built man stepped out, followed by a staggering woman. Her thin blond hair was layered on her head in a messy bun, loose strands sticking to her sweaty face. Jeff watched from the other side of the street, hidden in the dark space between two buildings. The woman was clearly drunk and likely on drugs. Jeff knew the club had an active drug business due to the various times Christina had come home. Jeff could instantly tell the woman was taking heroin and cocaine in different doses and sometimes even together. There were times when he had wondered how Christina had even found her way home in that state of mind.

Before Jeff's thoughts could wander to the woman's deteriorating lifestyle though, his eyes were drawn to the couple across the street. He couldn't hear them but it was clear by the woman's actions she was having second thoughts about the man. She looked around, tripping and holding her head. Something was wrong. Her thin frame began to twitch, her head and arms snapping slightly but enough to be distressing. The man shoved her into the wall and growled something, his voice being muffled by the distance. A silenced scream echoed in city streets, complimenting the chaotic noise that resounded in the night.

Jeff brought the short poison stick up to his mouth and wrapped his chapped lips around the end. The scene increased in tension and his eyes watched with scrutiny. She was struggling but couldn't seem to completely control her body. The woman was repeatedly twitching and kept having convulsions. Clutching her arms tightly, the heavy-set man began to drag her down the street to the closest ally. She kept yelling for help but her voice came out cracked and distorted with slurs.

A nauseating sensation traveled up Jeff's esophagus and into the back of his throat from his stomach. A sour and acidic liquid irritated the sensitive flesh of his throat. Jeff had never had a weak stomach yet at the scene presenting itself before him, he couldn't contain himself. With strain, Jeff gulped down the lump forming in his throat and willed his stomach to relax. The woman's screams were muffled and despite not being able to see in the ally, he was certain of the progression of events.

Why was he being so sensitive? He never had a desire for such actions but that didn't mean they should affect him so greatly. He had ripped out people's insides for the fun of it for fucks sake! A foreboding dread tied his throat into knots. As the screams died down and Jeff continued to stand there, a dead and forgotten cigarette hanging from his lips and muffled cries echoing inside his brain, his composure was rocked.

.o.o.o.

The carnal woman bounced to the music. People caroused all around her, enjoying their late night of debauchery. Completely aware of the toxins in her system, Christina relished in the way her mind was muddied and her body was on cloud nine. Everything was perfect. Everything was okay. She was here, in this moment, and none other. Christina twisted herself around and allowed her eyes to slip shut to fully enjoy the sensations running throughout her.

"You need some company?"

Christina didn't bother to open her eyes. The familiar sensation of a man putting his hands on her waist was intensified as she leaned back into his. His voice was gruff and his body felt heavy but strong.

"Mmmmmm, that'd be nice."

The two danced, as she did with every man that approached her. Tonight she had decided to wear her hair up but didn't want it to seem like she put too much effort into it, resulting in many strands falling around her face. Her mind roamed yet remained empty as a blissful smile resided on her face. It was a good night. It was a good life. Nothing could go wrong right now. She was on top of the world.

"How about we go somewhere a little more private?"

"Mkay," Christina replied with a light sing in her voice.

The gentle smile remained on her face as she allowed the man to lead her through the club. They squeezed between tight sweaty bodies and with each struggle to get through, pins and needles traveled through her skin. Despite the new uncomfortable sensation, Christina continued to walk, albeit a little clumsily now. Her feet felt like cinder blocks by the time they reached the bar. This wasn't more private, was it? Did he simply want to escape the crowded floor?

"Hey Bobby! Usual for my princess here."

Christina was vaguely aware her companion shoving her into a seat. She almost fell off due to the height. _'Why do people make chairs so high?'_ she wondered as a small glass was placed in front of her. Her ears were too preoccupied by music, talking, glasses clattering, shoes clapping on the floor, men hollering in amusement, and more to distinguish the laughter her companion was directly at her graceless actions. She also couldn't hear the low conversation between the bar tender and her companion. What was his name again? Robby? No, no, no.

Christina shook her head, annoyed that she was confused between names, only to clutch the counter before her and lean forward.

"You alright Princess?"

Her whole back was covered with something that separated at the ends into five different appendages. Or was it just on her shoulder, gripping her body? What even was that?

A hand shoved the tiny glass towards her crouching form. A dark liquid sloshed inside it, almost going over the top. The glass was filled to the brim, a translucent brown liquid. Or was it a deep purple? The little ripples scattered and bounced off one another and the wall of glass. It was so pretty. Colors flashed and reflected off of the juice. What was the little lump at the bottom? It was probably sugar. Christina remembered that some alcohols were sweetened with sugar. The cup got bigger and bigger, the liquid becoming more visible as she focused on it. A cold sensation swept through her skin, forming a circular motion on her forehead.

"John, I don't think she needs anymore. The girl's practically snorting the damn drink. Look at her!"

The world was spinning. She must be on a boat. Christina squeezed her eyes shut and drink to get control of herself. She was in a bar. But she could be on a boat, right? Bars are on boats. Her ears hurt from the sounds that slammed into her head. Words were misheard and muddled as they entered through one ear and went out another.

"Princess, just drink this. You'll feel better."

Christina opened her eyes to find the source of the voice. She saw a skinny man grinning at her from across the counter. A hand was holding a small cup in front of her face. Such a pretty liquid.

Christina opened her mouth acceptingly, awaiting for the liquid to enter. It didn't. Loud booming pounded in her head. She glanced away from the captivating juice and looked at the man across from her. He was smiling. He looked so happy. His eyes were squinting and one corner of his mouth was drawn up as he chuckled. Christina smiled at him while still keeping her mouth open, willing the levitating cup to empty itself in her mouth.

"John, just do it for her. I don't think she'll even be able to hold the glass herself."

Christina turned her head slightly. Who was the guy talking about? What girl? Anyone can hold a glass. As long as it's not sharp glass. You don't want to cut your hand. No, no. Christina grimaced at the memory of cutting her hand. It was most unpleasant, not pleasing or relieving at all.

The boat jumped forward and Christina swayed backwards. Everything was black and a bitter liquid was sloshing in her mouth. She could feel the juice everywhere. It was awful juice. Why was she drinking it again? Something was covering her face. No. Christina opened her eyes and could see the laughing man again. Nothing was covering her face. But why couldn't she open her mouth? She felt pressure on her chin, cheeks, and under her chin, whatever that was called. Unable to spit the liquid out, Christina forced herself to swallow. As soon as the juice was gone, the pressure removed itself from her face, much to her relief.

"I think I should take this one to bed. Princess needs a nap."

"Alright John. You take care."

Christina fell from her chair but never landed. Had she fallen? What were her legs doing? She felt wobbly, like her legs were jelly worms. She used to have those as a treat when she was little. Little, little, little. Christina felt moisture on her cheeks. What was this liquid? She couldn't move her one arm, something was holding it. Instead, Christina used her other arm to reach up and touch the strange liquid. A thousand tiny circular pressure things were pressed onto her face. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the pressure.

"Come on Princess! Would you cool it!"

Who said that? They sounded so mean. They were angry. Why were they angry at her? It was cold. Christina tried to hug herself. Her arms were bare and frozen and floppy. Why was she so cold? What was wrong with her? The woman tried to focus on something, anything. Loud sounds echoed around her. Christina could only see darkness but there were these huge shinny lights that she caught glimpses of. They seemed to be everywhere above her.

"Stop talking, would you! God damnit!"

Talking? Who was talking? Christina looked all around her as best as she could. More than once did she think she had fallen or was about to. Something was wrong. Christina tried to get away from the angry voice. She didn't want her father to be so mad at her again. He always hurt her when he was mad.

"No. I want to go. I want to go home. I'm sorry. Where am I? Can you take me home?"

She heard a girl talking. The girl sounded scared and Christina tried to look around for her. No one was there except for this random man. Christina tried to look at all of the man, maybe she could remember who he was? Why couldn't she remember anything?!

Someone screamed out. Christina wanted to help them but her whole body was being crushed. Why couldn't she move her arms? Where were her arms!? What was that light? Where was her mom? No!

"If you don't shut up, I'll make this worse for you. You Fucken slut."

The pressure was back on her face. Her whole body was surrounded, large lumps pressed into the front of her body and a hard scratchy thing pushing into the back of her body. Or was it reversed? Christina couldn't tell. She couldn't tell anything. She felt liquid on her face and once again she was moving. The boat was tipping. Where was she going? Christina called out for help, unable to move her arms for some reason. It was getting darker but the scratchy feeling had gone away.

Something hard slammed into her, causing Christina to shout out. She tried to move but couldn't. What was on top of her? Christina yelled out again, she knew she was yelling because she opened her mouth and did that thing where her throat hurts. At least her throat was hurting right now. She was getting colder and kept trying to cover up but she didn't have a blanket. Things were touching her all over and Christina couldn't stop them. She tried moving her arms and legs but they just hurt more and more each time she did. It was too much. It was too loud. It was too dark. Christina wanted to die.

And then…

It was quiet. She felt a liquid all over her. It was warm and sticky. The world moved and Christina was being pulled. For one moment she was free then she was surrounded again. Christina tried to run away, tried to beat the person, tried to get free, but she couldn't.

"Christina! Calm down!"

Who was that? Who was calling her? Christina froze but couldn't stay still. Everything was wrong. Everything was weird. The world was moving and it wouldn't stop. Her body was everywhere, feeling everything. She was cold and couldn't get warm.

"Christina. Christina can you hear me?"

She tried to reply. She wanted to say yes. She could hear them. She was Christina and she could hear them. But it felt wrong. Her mouth wouldn't move properly. She throat hurt. Why did her throat hurt so badly?

"I need you to stay still. I'm going to give you my hoodie. Can you put it on yourself?"

Her face was wet and her eyes stung. Tears. That's right. When she is upset, she cries. Crying was natural, but she wasn't supposed to cry. Crying was weak. Crying was bad. Dad didn't like it when she cried.

"Christina. I'm putting my hoodie on you now."

She tried to nod and then the world was shaking. It was all moving and she couldn't make it stop. Then it was soft. It was all soft. It was too soft. It was sticking to her. Why was the soft sticking to her? But it was warmer. Christina tried to hug herself and finally felt pressure around her. She gripped onto the soft tightly, wanting the world to stop moving and wanting to sleep.

"I'm taking you home now."

"NO!"

Christina jumped up, expecting to fly and was thoroughly disappointed when she didn't feel herself flying. Instead she fell into something hard. Something was wrapped around her back, pressing the soft into her. Christina tried to get the pressure to move and smiled when it was. Soft was all around her, but her legs were cold. Christina tried to bring her legs into the soft but couldn't.

"Christina, do you know who I am?"

Christina looked around and all she saw was darkness, some spots darker than others.

"I'm going to take you home. You'll be okay."

Her throat burned again. Why were they trying to take her home?! No. Her Dad was at home. He would be mad at her.

"Wha-? Christina, your Dad is not at your apartment. You're fine."

No. No she wasn't fine. Everything was wrong. Why couldn't they understand that?! Her throat continued to burn with flame. The fire hurt and she couldn't make it stop. Why wouldn't it stop?

She was hot. Too hot. The world was moving and she was sitting in a volcano. Christina didn't know volcanoes could move but she supposed it was possible. No. It wasn't possible. What was wrong with her? This wasn't okay. She was too hot. Too hot. She tried to run, tried to escape the volcano, but couldn't. Christina felt like she was floating. Had she finally been able to fly? Why was she so warn?

"Christina, we're almost there. Calm down. You're fine. You're okay."

They were wrong though! She wasn't okay! Why couldn't this stupid bastard understand that?! Her eyes hurt. Her throat hurt. Her head hurt. Everything was wrong. Why couldn't she focus? Why did she feel like this? Where was she going? Where was this man taking her?

It went on forever, yet was over in a split second. She was warmer; the cold wasn't hitting her legs anymore. She was in a room, a room that was too bright. Christina squeezed her eyes shut and shielded her head against something smooth yet hard. Then it was dark again and she opened her eyes once more. Christina sighed contently as she was surrounded by soft and warm. It was good. It was nice. But wait… Where was that guy going? He was nice! Christina wanted to tell him to stay. She begged him to stay. Why would he leave her right now? Her Dad was going to come home and Christina needed something! She needed someone! Who did she need?

"Christina, please…"

Tears streamed from her burning eyes. Why was it so hard? She watched the figure stand there, staring at her. Christina tried to move the blankets away so they would lay with her. But it was cold again! Then they moved. Christina smiled as they hugged her. She was warm. Warm all over. They were holding her. Christina knew that. They were going to protect her. Christina was a cat and she needed to show them that she was happy.

"I know Christina. It's okay. Just sleep."

Christina shook, she didn't want to sleep. Her dreams were scary. Would they still be here with her when she woke up? What about her dreams. She wanted to feel better. Why did she feel so bad?

The darkness crept into her eyes and ears. It was quiet but she could hear breathing. She was warm and soft and safe. It was okay. Christina's mind slowly faded away.

.o.o.o.

Jeff tossed his cigarette on the asphalt as he crossed the empty street. The woman's cries were getting quieter but he could hear what she was saying. Her sobs echoed quietly in the ally, mixing with mumbled and slurred words. Jeff leaned against the new brick wall, almost into the small space between buildings. He stared into the darkness, his stomach performing another cartwheel. The hulking man was covering the thin woman, his whole body pinning her tiny one to the repulsive ground. He was struggling to pull the woman's shirt up over her head, currently trying to shove her arms out of it.

Jeff watched silently, his mind blank but an undeniable growing disgust coming up from his stomach and into his throat. The grotesque man was too busy assaulting the defenseless woman to even notice Jeff's presence.

"Pl-ay-z! H-ohwa-m! Im 'awah' home!"

Jeff froze, his eyes bulging wider than originally thought possible. That voice. Those paniced slurs. Jeff knew that voice anywhere. The way her words blended together and almost sounded like a language combined of English and another. Jeff had heard it so often before.

The rapists had finally gotten the shirt off the woman and her face was reveled. If Jeff had been just slightly unsure about the owner of the voice before, he wasn't anymore. Without a moment of thought, Jeff grabbed the fat man by the back of his jacket, and pulled him up.

"Shut up you dumb bitch! Just… fucken… Gah! The Fu-"

The man never got a chance to finish his swear as blood filled the mouth that was torn open. Jeff's sharp knife stabbed into the man's jugular and split the flesh in half as he drove it up. Thick, red, blood squirted out and pooled down his hands. With a grunt, Jeff threw the lifeless corpse to the side and flicked his wrist. His hands were drenched in the sticky liquid. The blood was as repulsive as the man's character.

"H-ohwa-m! Yah-hah-kay."

His chest hurt by the sight. Christina was sitting on the polluted ground, her shirt torn off and her bra hanging off. Blood coated her wan skin, reminding Jeff of blood staining untouched, beautiful snow. Her hair was in messy knots, sticking out in every direction and hanging down past her shoulders. Dirt, blood, sweat, and tears mixed together a gross liquid of horror on her face. A thin line of drool was leaking down her chin from the corner of her mouth. Small pupils stared out, wide with terror. Her head kept turning from side to side, as if she was seeing things that weren't there. Despite her hands resting in her lap, her elbows kept snapping her arms and her biceps flexed sporadically. Christina's knees shook as she stared around.

One moment she was shaking and looking around her, the next she was screaming something incomprehensible and throwing herself in the opposite direction of Jeff. Her legs only shook and convulsed as she lunged her arms out as far as she could. Christina dug her nails into the concrete, causing sounds of pain to escape her small mouth.

"Christina!"

Before Jeff could comprehend the fact that his voice had cracked, Christina was attempting to clutch her fingers, the nails broken and now bleeding.

"Christina," Jeff said again, taking a step towards her.

The frightened woman's bra had now fallen off her shoulders completely and was hanging loosely around her elbows. Jeff couldn't help but see her, yet he wasn't aroused. No, instead he had a new feeling bubbling inside him. The woman in front of him was so frail; she could be killed in an instant without knowing what was happening. Jeff had seen her scared the time they had fought-but now?… Right now she was petrified. The terror was clear in her eyes and possessed her body like a ravenous demon. She was so vulnerable, so defenseless, so confused, so…

"Christina. Can you hear me?"

Jeff reached his hand out towards her slowly, as if she was a rabid animal ready to pounce. Her eyes locked on Jeff in wide wonder. He stared into her eyes looking for something, anything, but saw no recognition there. Then, she was moving around again. Christina stood up on shaky legs, only to fall into Jeff's arms… and open hands.

The moment Christina's body touched Jeff's she was falling backwards by her own accord, landing with a hard thud on the ground. Heat rushed to his face, accompanied by another lump of disgust forming in his throat. He hadn't intended to! It had just happened! She got up then fell! Was he supposed to just let her fall? Jeff's hand stood frozen in mid-air, not knowing what to do or how to react. This was the wrong place. The wrong time. Why did she have to be naked!?

Jeff brought his hand up to his head and gripped a large fistful of hair. An annoyed growl seeped from his mouth. What was wrong with him!? He shouldn't be getting flustered over such a simple thing! Why should he feel embarrassed?! It wasn't like him. He had been with women plenty of times when he was younger. In fact, he was quite the desired 'bad-boy' in his teen years. He shouldn't be reacting like this. But… This… This was Christina. This was Christina and she was vulnerable and needed his help.

Jeff crouched down slowly and spoke softly.

"Christina. Christina, can you hear me?"

Jeff watched patiently as the woman began to nod her head vigorously, stop, and then open her mouth. It looked as though she was desperately trying to fight the twitches and say words. Christina's lips curled under and outwards, her tongue curled in weird angels inside her open mouth. Jeff stared at her, watching her struggle. Why did he feel so… What? What was he even feeling? Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

"I need you to stay still," he spoke softly, trying his hardest to… comfort her?... "I'm going to give you my hoodie. Can you put it on yourself?

Jeff stayed silent, waiting for her response, but all the woman did was cry. Why did he ask her if she could put it on herself? Of course she couldn't! How stupid could he be? Standing up slowly, Jeff kept his strained eyes locked on Christina's frightened ones, and slipped the stained hoodie over his head. Christina had recently washed it for him, but since then it had been dirtied with blood and sweat.

Goosebumps rose on Jeff's skin as the chilly night breeze raked his naked torso. Crouching down carefully again, Jeff began to fiddle with the white hoodie.

"Christina," Jeff began, silently relieved when her head turned back to him, "I'm putting my hoodie on you now."

Jeff watched as the woman's head bounced vigorously once again. She began to sway back and forth, clutching her head. Slowly, Jeff reached into the sweatshirt from the bottom and began to bring it over the woman's head. Christina's stringy hair poked out of the top, but the rest of the hoodie stayed bunched up around her face. Her arms stayed gripping her head but were no longer twitching. Jeff rested his fingers on her wrist, not wanting to startle the woman. Then, he gently pulled her arm away from her head. She began to shake again as he pushed it through the sleeve, then began to do the same for her other arm.

It was such a simple action, putting the hoodie on her. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal to him, but the action sent tremors through his body and mind. The feelings, he didn't like them. He didn't like them at all, causing his face to contort in annoyance and flash back to worry as he thought about the woman.

The corners of Jeff's lips quirked up as Christina seemed to snuggle into his hoodie. The sleeves went far past her hands that were currently rubbing her cheeks with the soft material. The bottom pooled around her hips and rested on the ground, clearly much longer than her petite torso. The hood hugged around her head, leaving her surrounded in the warmth except for her face. At least now she was covered.

"I'm taking you home now."

"NO!"

Jeff jumped back at her reaction. One moment it was as if she was a kitten and the next she was a fucken lion. Then, Christina lunged up, tackling him. Jeff hissed out as a feeling of sandpaper scraped his back. Fucken brick wall was going to leave him with a nasty brush burn. His arms tightened around the woman leaning into him, her hot breath cascading on his chest. Warmth flooded Jeff's face one again and secretly he was relieved when she began to struggle and he had a reason to let go of her. He watched silently as she began to bend one knee at a time up to her chest. After a moment Christina's eyes got sad but before she could begin crying again, Jeff intervened.

"Chrissy, do you know who I am?"

The woman spun around slowly, focusing on Jeff for a moment and then turning again. The man sighed, this was not going well. Why was he trying to help her anyways? She wasn't important to him. Christina was just a random woman he found interesting. That's all it was. And now he was tangled into her mess of a life and actually looking out for her. It was pathetic of him. Yet as Jeff watched the woman look like a lost kitten, his hoodie protecting her like a bathrobe, he felt compelled to take care of her.

"I'm going to take you home now. You'll be okay," he repeated.

The change was instantaneous. She began to twitch rapidly, shivering and hugging herself. Christina's eyes were wide with fear and tears poured down her cheeks.

"N-no.. No 'ad. Dad is't h-ohwa-m. I don'ann s-ay 'em."

Confusion drowned Jeff in a powerful wave.

"Wha-…?"

Why was she talking about her Dad? She clearly didn't want to see the absent man. It was as if she was in fact terrified of seeing him and that fear was causing her to get worse.

"Christina… You're Dad is not at your apartment," Jeff spoke softly, an edge of uncertainty clear in his voice. He didn't know why she was so scared by the prospect of her Dad, but regardless of the reasons, it was simply causing her to panic more. Jeff vaguely remembered that this was not the first time she had been scared of her father. "You're fine."

Despite his efforts, Christina only cried harder and began mumbling. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't make her calm down; for God's sake she could barely even understand him. Jeff wondered if she even knew where she was. He seriously doubted it though. Judging by her reactions, the woman's mental capabilities were close to zero. Whatever she had taken was having severely bad affects on her body and mind. Jeff had never seen Christina so intoxicated and messed up on drugs that she couldn't even comprehend the minutest of details such as her surroundings. Even when she would come home drunk off her ass, she had at least been able to get home by herself.

Finally coming to a decision, Jeff stepped towards her. A bubbling guilt rose inside him by what he was about to do. Carefully, he reached down and tipped the woman into his arms by her knees. Christina began to squirm, mumbling incoherently and rocking from side to side. Why did he feel guilty? All he was doing was picking her up! But… she was scared… she didn't know who he was or even who she was… and she wasn't even looking at him when he had caused her to fall into his arms.

Jeff held onto the struggling woman tightly yet tried not to grip onto her. Christina's convulsions and movements caused him to hold her tighter; the thought of her falling onto the hard side walk from this height bothered him. She would be okay if she fell, but Jeff didn't want her anymore scared and hurt than she already was. It was only a few blocks from Christina's apartment and Jeff was certain he could carry her the whole way.

"NO! I don'anna. Hauwt. Noo…." Christina groaned out.

Her elbows dug into his diaphragm and lungs, despite the repeated blows, Jeff held her safely. She was delirious, mumbling on about random things such as volcanoes, birds, and once again her Dad. Whenever she began to talk about her Dad or about volcanoes, she would work harder to struggle, wiggling her legs and elbowing his torso.

"Christina, we're almost there," he told her. Despite the affirmations, she still wouldn't settle. Jeff continued to carry her bridal style down the dark city streets. He passed by the occasional homeless person or threatening looking man. No one bothered him though. Without his hood over his head, his face was in clear view, only protected by the messy hair, and Jeff's hair didn't do much to shield his face right now. If anyone looked up at him, they would freak out or simply stay the hell away from him.

"Calm down," Jeff repeatedly told Christina, hoping that one of the statements would get through to her, "You're fine. You're okay."

Her mumblings transitioned into quiet wines, her convulsions easing into minor twitches and tremors. He could see the tall structure of the apartments that should be condemned. In a short time, he was carrying her form up the many stairs.

"Uhm…. Christina?"

However the woman didn't respond. She was resting her head against his shoulder. Jeff looked away from her disheveled face. Christina's eyes were closed and Jeff could see the short hairs of the woman's soft lashes resting on her cheek bones.

Carefully, Jeff reached his fingers around her door handle and turned it. The door was never locked. For one she didn't have a lock on the door and for another, she didn't need one because she didn't have anything worth protecting. Jeff used his bent elbow to turn on the kitchen light. Christina groaned out and Jeff tried to ignore the way her nose buried into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Moving slowly as to not startle her, Jeff made his way into her room. Cautiously, the man leaned down, resting his arms on the bed with her before gently removing them from under the woman. Jeff reached down for the lone blanket Christina owned -a ratty comforter with multiple sewn patches yet still thick- and covered her with it. A smile reached Jeff's lips at the sight of Christina's sighing contently before he could stop it.

After realizing his actions and once again feeling uncomfortable with the emotions bouncing around inside of him, Jeff stepped quietly to the open door.

"No… w-whawt…. No…."

Jeff paused and turned his head slightly back, glimpsing at the delirious woman. She was looking up at him, her mouth softly agape and her hand outstretched towards him.

"St-stay…. D-Dad 'omin… N-need…. Stay…."

Why!? Why did he feel so compelled to comfort her!? It was pathetic and extremely annoying!

"Christina… Please…." He begged. Not wanting to stay with her but not wanting to leave her alone in this state.

Jeff's throat hitched as he noticed emotions falling from her eyes and sliding down her face. It was pitiful. It was wrong. What was wrong? Was it wrong to leave her in this state? Or was it wrong to want to help her and protect her? Jeff's long locks tickled his shoulders as he shook his head, growing annoyance flooding his mind. He couldn't answer any of these questions. He didn't want to answer them. However, explanations and understandings whispered to him in the back of his mind and all he wanted to do was stab them. So for now, he ignored the answers.

The woman began to push at the blanket surrounding her and claw at the hoodie hugging her. The sight sent Jeff over to her. The bed creaked as he sat on it and slid down to get comfortable. At the very same time he did this, Christina buried herself into his body, her head resting on his chest. Jeff wasn't even close to being comfortable in this position yet felt he couldn't move. The woman began to rub her head on his chest, her hair gliding along.

"I know Chrissy," Jeff began, an arm wrapping around her back and the other pulling the blanket up over them, "It's okay. Just sleep."

Jeff stayed still, one arm wrapped around her back and the other resting next to him on the bed. He hated sleeping on his back; it simply was not comfortable for him. Christina began to shake, her ragged breath hitting his bare skin.

"Dweens…. No…."

Jeff's hands moved by their own accord. The one cupping around her back began to move in soft circles, and his other hand reached up to her head and began to gently rub her soft hair.

"Shhh…. It's okay," he whispered.

The woman's arms tightened around him, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other reaching under into his side. How she was comfortable in this position, Jeff would never know.

"You're safe Chrissy," he whispered softly into her hair.

"You're safe."

.o.o.o.

 **Hey guys! Super proud of this chapter. It had originally been twice as long too! I decided to cut it in half and instead give a longer introduction for the chapter.**

 **THE SONG! At War by Letters from the Fire. Okay. Deciding on a song for this chapter was a challenge. I debated between three different ones. Medicine by Daughter and Sober by Pink. I decided to go with this one because it was able to wrap together her depression, the past related to her father, how she wants time to go faster but it's going slower and everything is confusing. Christina hasn't lived a good life and has never "won" as the song states, she has simply survived, as she survived once again. And praying for Angels and the world to end? Well… I wouldn't exactly call Jeff an angel but he did rescue her. Anyways, I think this song is just so perfect.**

 **I honestly really enjoyed writing this chapter. That probably sounds horrible, like "yeah. I enjoyed writing a traumatic chapter with serious physical and mental deteriorations and mass anger." No, for real though. A lot happened in this chapter. Finally, we have some Jeff/Christina romance budding in this chapter and Christina is beginning to lose her shit –Did she even really have it together in the first place? Anyways… I'm really proud of this chapter. I worked hard on it.**

 **What did you all think of Jeff's inner conflict? I tried to keep it realistic but like all Jeff-the-Killer love stories, at some point he becomes less of a serious killer and more of a sensitive mess. I hope that it flowed alright. Tell me why you think it went well or why you didn't? Anything I should change or any ways I could make it better?**

 **What about Christina's drug delirium? I read up a lot about bad trips. Bad trips from marijuana, acid, cocaine, and heroine. Taking a drug, drinking alcohol, and then drinking whatever date-rape drug that the man put into her drink would cause anyone to be as fucked up as Christina was in this chapter.**

 **So Like! Favorite! Share! Tell other people about my story! Comment! Comment again! And even if it is just "FINALLY YOU UPDATED YOU FUCKEN BITCH I LOVE IT!" or some variation, COMMENT! :P ^_^**


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